


Legends Never Die

by Molli3



Series: Morgan Winchester [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brothers, Demons, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Little Sisters, Non-Consensual Spanking, Plot, Rescue Missions, Spanking, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2018-12-24 15:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 105,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12016083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molli3/pseuds/Molli3
Summary: Hi guys, welcome to "Legends Never Die", Morgan's third and final story, but it's not just Morgan's anymore... I'm switching things up a little in this installment and flipping between Morgan and Bryan's views. Thank you to all those who review this, I was expecting a bit more hate on the end of the second part lol Though all of you made me smile =)So we left Morgan after she'd been abducted in the gas station bathroom by Dagon- a little nod to both Season 2 when Sam was kidnapped from the tiny diner and the actual ending of Season 11 when he was taken by the British Men of Letters- also, I'm an asshole if you haven't figured that out yet =)I hope you like this - please let me know!





	1. Chapter 1

Bryan leaned against his car after shoving the nozzle back in the pump, his eyes fixed on the bathroom door, perfecting his words before Morgan returned. He'd sounded bitter and stupid before, he knew that, and he wasn't angry at her, or Max, he was just angry. When he'd asked Dean what his role would be in the hunt, the oldest Winchester had smirked and told him he wouldn't be involved, that the young man wasn't ready. Somehow, Bryan had managed to bottle up his anger and agree with the seasoned hunter, but his frustrations had boiled.

He should've been excited, hell grateful that Dean had charged him with taking Morgan back to the motel and used the alone time to his advantage. The vampires, however, the Alpha specifically, wouldn't stop haunting his mind. It was a battle his family had been fighting for generations and here it had finished, without an Elkins in the ring.

He'd had no right to act the way he had with Morgan, Bryan knew that, but he'd been irritated and resentful of not being included, allowing the little power he'd been given to take over his rationality. With the addition of his impossibly stubborn girlfriend and her sneaky attempt to deceive him, he'd reacted before thinking. Bryan wished he could take back what he'd said, what he'd done, but all he could do now was hope she'd forgive him.

"Hey, kid," Dean approached and leaned next to him on the trunk of the Grand National, "Y'okay?"

"Besides bein' a hot-headed idiot," Bryan scoffed, "yeah, I'm okay."

"You two get in a fight?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Bryan nodded, "two now I guess."

"Hey," Sam walked over jerking his head towards the bathroom, "they go in the store?"

"Don't think so," Dean shook his head and Bryan mimicked him in confirmation.

"I'm gonna check on 'em," Sam turned and walked across the parking lot towards the bathroom.

"Hey, uh," Bryan began, his stomach twisting with the words he knew he had to say, "Dean, I gotta tell y'somethin'."

"What's up?" Dean raised his eyebrows.

"I may've, uh, lost my temper earlier," Bryan forced the admission despite his heart racing, "Morgan wanted t'look in on you guys 'n I wouldn't let her have her crystals, 'cause you said t'wait 'til one, so she magicked 'em into her hand 'n when I caught her, it was just, it all happened really fast, she wouldn't even listen t'me!"

"What happened?" Dean's tone was low.

"I kinda swatted her," he said quickly, hurrying his words as Dean's expression hardened, "a little, I just wanted t'get her attention."

"You what?" Dean growled, jumping off the car and pulling the young man with him by his jacket, "You WHAT?!"

"Dean, I was wrong!" Bryan insisted, his hands up defensively, "I didn't-"

"Damn right you were wrong!" Dean barked, shaking him roughly, "You have no right-"

"DEAN!" Sam's frantic call stole both their attention and Bryan's stomach lurched seeing the younger Winchester sprinting towards them with Claire in his arms.

"What the hell?" Dean breathed, releasing Bryan and hurtling towards his brother, "Where's Morgan?!"

"She's gone," Sam shook his head, his voice shaking.

"What'd y'mean she's gone?!" Dean yelled, sprinting to the bathroom with Bryan hot on his trail.

Dean pushed through the door, kicking open the two stalls before turning to the terrified young man in the doorway and releasing a loud, angry growl, shoving roughly passed Bryan on his way back to the cars.

Sam had settled Claire on the backseat of the Impala and was having a little success reviving her when Bryan skidded to a halt behind Dean at the open rear door.

"How's she doin'?" Dean asked quickly, "Does she know who did this?"

Sam answered him with an angry scowl while cradling the barely muttering blonde's head, Claire's eyelids fluttered a bit, but it was an agonizing few minutes before they opened.

"Hey, hey, Claire," Sam said softly when her eyes finally focused, "How y'doin'?"

"My head hurts," she muttered, "and, the, MORGAN!"

Claire tried to sit up quickly, but Sam pulled her back into a mostly lying position as she grabbed her head in agony.

"Did you see anything?" Dean asked with panic in his voice.

Claire nodded, "A woman, dark hair, late thirties maybe," she inhaled sharply, closing her eyes tightly as her fingers curled on her scalp, "I saw her for less than a second."

"That's enough," Dean said quietly, locking his worried eyes on Sam's, equally as concerned.

Bryan felt like he might throw up, he'd never seen the Winchester brothers look so scared.

* * *

When Morgan finally came out of the darkness, she found herself cuffed to a rough, wooden chair in a large, empty barn. The floor was covered in mud, hay and dust, there were no tracks to suggest anyone had been there for quite some time, and the ceiling and walls had gaping holes riddling the rotted wood.

"HELP!" Morgan yelled as loud as she could, yanking at the binds that wouldn't budge, "DEAN! SAM! HELP ME!"

"No one's coming," a mean voice made Morgan turn to Dagon sitting on an ancient pile of grain bags, the demon smiled coldly as she slid to the floor and slowly stepped toward the young witch, "You can scream 'til you're hoarse, but there isn't a soul for miles."

"My brothers'll come," Morgan growled, far more confidently than she felt, her stomach twisting with fear as Dagon stalked closer.

"That would be impressive," the demon smirked, "but I've heard if Sam and Dean Winchester are anything, it's impressive. So, who knows, maybe they will," Dagon shrugged and grinned devilishly, "All the better for me."

"You've had y'r'chance," Morgan scoffed, internally screaming at herself for taunting the Prince of Hell, but inherently unable to help it, "What, twice now? Guess third time's the charm, but you don't really look too lucky. Not a gambler are ya?"

"I see you have your brother's wit," Dagon said, "none."

"I see you have your brother's future," Morgan said, "dead."

She gasped as a sharp pain burst across her cheek, forcing her head all the way to one side, and the demon glowered down at her, chuckling darkly, "You little bitch. I'm gonna let the wolves eat your heart outta your chest and then, then I'm gonna kill your brothers and anyone else you've every loved. Slowly."

"Screw you," Morgan spit the blood in her mouth at the smug face inches away from hers.

It wasn't a smart move, she'd known that going into it and expected the backlash, though Morgan still grunted loudly as Dagon smacked her head one way and the other. The final blow to her unexpecting gut was a different torture all together and Morgan lost her breath for several moments, the pain reverberating through her torso.

"Don't forget who's in charge here, sweetheart," Dagon smirked.

Morgan looked at the ground near the doorway, refusing to hang her head, willing the cuffs off, but her magic was paralyzed. Warded cuffs, just like the ones her brothers had, she was sure, she'd asked Dean to test them out once. Her stomach sank with the thought of her brother, blinking away the tears stinging her eyes and swallowing hard on her tightening throat. They must be so worried.

"Awe," Dagon mocked, "Y'gonna cry?"

"Screw you," Morgan muttered.

"Didn't we already go through this?" the demon laughed meanly, "Or do you need another smack?"

"Why am I still alive?" the witch growled, "Just kill me."

"Oho, girly," her eyes flashed yellow, "you have no idea how much joy that would bring me."

"Then do it," Morgan's expression didn't betray the terror she felt.

"Do you know what an apocalypse is?" Dagon asked condescendingly.

"No," Morgan said flatly.

"It was Lucifer's one plan," the demon continued as if she hadn't heard, "his only goal, to complete the singular destiny given to him."

"Think that may've been the problem?" Morgan asked with sarcastic concern, "I mean, obsessed much?"

"Shut up," Dagon snapped.

"No, seriously," Morgan shook her head, "How can anyone have one, single goal and expect their life to be anything but a disappointment? If anything, his mistake should'a taught you t'put more lines in the water-" a small grunt escaped from the hard hit across her face, but Morgan also couldn't help a little grin.

"I said, shut up," Dagon growled and stalked from the barn.

"Where y'goin'?" Morgan called, "C'mon, I thought we were havin' fun!"

As the demon disappeared behind the large door, Morgan shook her head from the tears she still felt trying to force their way out. She couldn't be more screwed. At least the time Crowley had taken her it wasn't a mystery as to where she was, and the King of Hell had been there to get her brothers to his throne room as quickly as possible when the plan had failed, but this time Morgan couldn't even begin to guess where she was. What hope could there be of them finding her?

* * *

"We gotta go," Dean said.

"Where?" Sam asked.

"We just gotta go!" Dean shouted, "We'll start makin' calls on the road."

Sam simply nodded at his brother's order, leaving Claire alone on the backseat and hopping in the front as he dug his phone from his jacket.

"Can I follow you?" Bryan asked a bit timidly.

"Oh yeah," Dean growled with narrow eyes, "I ain't done with you by a long shot."

The young man's stomach twisted, but he nodded, accepting Dean had every right to threaten him and more after what he'd done to his sister, feeling nauseous again as her perfect smile flashed in his mind. Where was she? He prayed, as he followed the Impala from the gas station, that Morgan was still okay and her brothers would find a lead on the Prince of Hell they were sure was the culprit. The idea made Bryan's insides crawl and a weight in his gut reminded him how useless he was to help save her.

They drove for a while, Bryan didn't even bother putting the radio on as he followed the Impala alone, racing to keep up with Dean, but appreciating the small relief accelerating angrily gave him. Finally, the sedan pulled off, stopping in the parking lot of an abandoned strip mall off the highway and Bryan got out as both Winchesters did.

"Y'got somethin'?" Bryan's words were hurried.

"GPS on her phone's off," Sam said, "We called Max t'ask him t'scry her for us, but," his words trailed off with a defeated shrug.

"But what?" Bryan urged.

"He said she's blocked," Dean answered in a low voice, "he was only able to see her for a second and said everything around her's black, he can't figure out where she is."

Sam's phone rang and he pressed it to his ear while walking out of earshot.

"So, what'd we do?" Bryan asked.

"We'll find her," Dean growled.

"Is Claire okay?" Bryan nodded at the Impala.

"I'm fine," the blonde called angrily as she rolled down the back window, "I'm not allowed to get out, because-"

"Because you have a freaking concussion!" Dean challenged, "You need to take it easy!"

"I'm fine!" she insisted loudly while clutching her head.

"You look so fine," he smirked, "Claire, I'm in no mood t'screw around. You listen, or so help me girl y'r'head's not the only thing that'll be achin'."

Claire looked like she had many things to say, but sat back on the seat hard, glaring at Dean with her lips closed tightly. Slowly, the window returned to its upright position.

"Can," Bryan couldn't believe the question that stammered out of his mouth, "can Crowley help?"

"I've already left him two voicemails," Dean admitted, "Cas put out the Amber Alert on angel radio, but I don't expect much from those ass clowns. He's on his way at least."

"To where?" Bryan asked.

"Jeezus kid," Dean sighed with frustration, "I have about as many answers right now as you do. Cas knows where we are 'n we'll figure it out when he's close. We've called hunters, demons, angels-"

"That was Rowena," Sam said as he returned to the group.

"Witches," Dean added and turned to his brother, "Can she help?"

"Said the same thing," Sam shook his head, "Morgan's blocked, can't see a damn thing."

Dean hung his head with an incredulous scoff.

"But," Sam continued, "she might have a spell that can help us track her."

"Sam," Dean growled impatiently, "this is not the time for your dramatic reveals, headlines first, man. Where're we meetin' her?"

"She's callin' me back," he held up his phone and rolled his eyes, "She had another call come in."

"And you should be glad she did," a gravelly voice made them all turn to Crowley and a thin, redheaded woman, both were far too well dressed for an abandoned parking lot in the middle of nowhere, "Hello, boys."

Bryan's stomach turned at the sight of the Demon, though had never felt more relieved to see him, that thought alone created a new sense of nausea.

"Dean," the redhead crooned in a heavy Scottish accent at the oldest Winchester, "Sam," her eyes then fell on Bryan, "And who's this handsome young chap? I don't believe we've had the pleasure."

"That's Bryan," Dean growled, "What's this spell y'got?"

"Never been one for foreplay, has he?" the witch asked Crowley.

"You'd have to ask the feathered one," Crowley said dryly.

"Hey!" Dean barked, "My little sister's out there with the psycho first mate of Satan! Can we focus on the goddamn problem?! Please?"

He actually sounded like he was begging at the end of his rant and the demon smirked almost sadly.

"Mother," Crowley said with his eyes on the Winchesters, "How accurate is this tracking spell?"

"Within a quarter mile," she said proudly.

"Get to it then," Dean nodded curtly.

"Goodness," she scoffed, "not even a please?"

"Rowena, I swear t'God," Dean took a few steps, but Sam held him back by the arm.

"Please," Sam said, "Rowena, we really need you t'do this. Please."

"Well," Rowena sighed with a smile, "who could resist those puppy dog eyes? I'll need something of hers, something close, and a map."

Dean opened the back door, motioning for Claire to cooperate, while Sam leaned all the way through the driver's side of the Impala before returning with a road map as Dean held Morgan's backpack tightly in his grip, both doors shut with solid thuds.

"Hardly goes anywhere without it," Dean said quietly, handing the bag over to Rowena as Sam spread the map on the hood of Bryan's car.

Bryan stepped back, watching as the witch held the brown backpack in one hand and focused her attention on her index finger of the other, speaking in a commanding voice.

"Úbi sum," her arm extended unnaturally, Bryan couldn't help wincing a little as her finger jammed hard into the map laying on his Grand National, "Úbi sunt eam!"

Her hand raised and again the well-manicured finger slammed into the map, quickly moving to another point, and then another. Rowena pointed at three separate locations in the same order four times before finally shaking her head of the trance and pulling her hand back as if she'd been bitten by a snake.

"What was that?" Sam asked.

"Failure, my dear," Rowena said bitterly, "You can't block a tracking spell, but something is keeping me from locating her."

"What?" Dean growled.

"I wish I knew, darling," she forced a grin at him.

"Is she in that triangle?" Bryan asked timidly.

"That's Lake Michigan," Dean scowled.

"Wait," Sam had a far-away look as he whipped his phone from his pocket and started madly swiping the screen, nodding after a few moments, "Yeah, yeah, okay. Was that Ludington 'n Benton Harbor Michigan 'n Manitowoc Wisconsin?"

Rowena looked surprised as they all turned to her, "Oh, right," she glanced at the map again and nodded, "It certainly is, Samuel."

"Okay so what's that?" Dean turned back to Sam.

"The Bermuda Triangle of Lake Michigan," Sam said, glancing at his phone, "One'a those places that just has a lot of stories of unexplained things, shipwrecks, disappearances, there's a lotta local legends, most of 'em are prob'ly crap."

"Would that cause a problem?" Dean turned back to Rowena.

"Sounds like a witch's web t'me," she said.

"What's that?" Sam and Dean asked together.

"It's really very cute when you do that, boys," the witch giggled, "A witch's web is just that, it's a spell cast on a vast space, when an intruder enters the witch is alerted and given the opportunity to protect themselves, or attack if that's their choice," she shrugged as if either was equally acceptable, "It must have been a powerful witch to cast that far and to hold so long. Tell me, Samuel, when was the last reporting of something, fatally strange happening?"

"It's, uh, it's been a while," he stared at his phone while swiping, "Over a hundred years."

"Then the witch is almost surely dead, or well retired," Rowena said, "but witch's webs are not just for trapping intruders, they are very effective in keeping other witches' magic out."

"So," Dean began, "Morgan's somewhere in this triangle?"

"That's my best guess, dear," she nodded.

"I hope you boys know how to hot wire a boat," Crowley said with his eyes on the map.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thank you for your reviews and favoriting/following this story! So glad you found it :) It's also really great to hear that many of you like the switch to Bryan's view point too- I feel more comfortable writing from him than a canon character, I just don't want to do them any in justice and feel I know they're reactions better than their inner thoughts. Clearly I've thought too hard about this, glad you're liking it though and please please please keep telling me :) I've just had the shittiest week(s) at work, this is the only place I haven't felt broken lately and your reviews do so much to break up the awful parts of my day, seriously, I get yelled at a lot by people I have to be nice to, so pretty much every review brings me back from the brink of insanity :)** _

Morgan wasn't sure how long she'd been out, but ice-cold water splashing across her face effectively woke her. She gasped and spit the liquid from her mouth, glaring at the demon smiling menacingly at her as she tossed an empty bucket to the barn floor.

"Mornin'," Dagon said cheerfully, "Good sleep?"

"Screw you," Morgan growled.

"Bit of a broken record aren't you?" the demon smirked, "Maybe you can find some new tracks for your visitor."

Morgan's stomach sank, feeling the blood drain from her face, and Dagon must have noticed as she grinned evilly before pursing her lips and whistling as if she was calling a dog. Her assumption wasn't too far off, Morgan realized, as the looming form of Phelan approached slowly behind the demon in the dusky light of the barn.

His eyes were dark, narrowed threatening at her with a hungry expression. His shoulders were broader than she remembered and he was easily as tall as Sam, though vastly more terrifying. Morgan swallowed hard on the nausea she felt creeping up her throat, forcing her feet into the ground to avoid her legs visibly shaking.

"This is her?" Phelan asked unimpressed, "The daughter of Odin? She's a child," he chuckled darkly, "A frail child!"

"Yet,  _I'm the one_  who was able to snatch her," Dagon said condescendingly and Morgan saw the werewolf's shoulders tense.

"She wasn't needed until the final stage on the full moon," Phelan insisted, "If it had been a priority to get her sooner, believe me, I'd have done it."

"Clearly, you're unfamiliar with the Winchesters," Dagon sneered, "You can't give them time, and you've already wasted too much."

"I am perfectly familiar," Phelan bit out angrily, "If you remember who foiled our first attempt at stage one and killed my Beta Warren."

"You deserved worse than losing one man for that stupidity," the demon laughed, "but, I have your revenge right here," she smiled at Morgan, who bared her teeth, snarling at the Prince of Hell.

"I appreciate your assistance," it seemed to take a lot for the werewolf to force out those words and he took a step towards the witch.

Dagon giggled, "Oh, you're not taking her."

Phelan whipped around at the demon, "What?!"

"You think I would trust you to hold her until the full moon?" Dagon laughed out loud, "I wouldn't trust you with a chew toy!" Phelan was clearly having a difficult time managing his anger as his fists shook at his sides, but Dagon was clearly enjoying herself, "No, I will keep our final ingredient safe until we need her."

"Then why did you call me out here?!" Phelan growled loudly.

Dagon laughed again, "This, you Rottweiler!" her words came out in gasps between her boisterous laughter, "The look on your face!" Dagon dissolved in a fit for a moment before regaining control of herself, "Priceless, really," the demon's amusement subsided and she sighed happily, "I will deliver her personally when the time is right.  _You_  just make sure your army of bitches is ready to go."

"My army is ready!" he bellowed, "What about yours?"

"Excuse me?" the amusement had vanished from Dagon's face as she inclined her head at the werewolf, raising a hand into the air and Phelan clutched his throat as his boots lifted off the ground, "You don't question me, Sparky," she held him another moment longer before dropping him to the ground, he recovered quickly, though, standing with his broad shoulders stretched, but his head bowed, as the demon finished, "Got it?"

Phelan nodded curtly, though his expression was still furious, and he glared at Morgan, licking his lips hostilely before stalking from the barn.

Dagon turned to Morgan with a sickening smile, "I've always been more of a cat person, but dogs are certainly more loyal when you beat them and hold their food hostage."

"Screw you," Morgan said with as much conviction as she could muster, forcing steadiness in her voice.

"There's that number one hit again," Dagon smirked, "Y'know, I'm starting to enjoy it. Never change my little witch, not that you have much opportunity."

"Go fuck y'rself!" Morgan yelled as Dagon moved to leave the barn.

"Y'know," the demon turned with a thoughtful nod, "That's better, stick with that one, kid."

As the door shut, leaving Morgan in the shadowy light streaming through the holes in the ceiling and walls, she growled in frustration and terror. Screaming despite her pride.

"DEAN!"

* * *

Dean slammed his fists on the trunk of his Impala as he let out a growl, "Damn it!"

"Dean," Sam tried to sound calm, "at least we've got a place t'start."

"Yeah," Dean scoffed angrily, "Five hundred square miles of Lake Michigan!"

"Max 'n Rowena saw her for a second, they said she looked like she was tied to a chair, right?" Sam reasoned, "They didn't say she looked wet. So, we check out all the land in the triangle first, then move into the lake if we have to."

Dean nodded slowly, "Okay," his eyes shifted to Bryan, "Kid, you are so lucky I don't have five minutes t'beat the crap outta you."

Bryan looked down at the words, but Sam furrowed his brow in confusion from the young man to his brother, "What's goin' on?"

"C'mon, Bryan," Dean said with sarcastic encouragement and an enthusiastic head nod, "Tell him what y'did."

His stomach turned as Sam's gaze hardened on him before he even spoke, but mustered up the courage to force the words out, "I, uh, tried t'keep Morgan from scryin' you guys earlier than y'wanted, she got 'em from me anyway, magic, yknow, but I, uh, kinda lost my temper when she wouldn't give 'em up 'n I," Bryan took a very deep breath, bracing for a violent impact, "I swatted her."

Sam's eyebrows raised in surprise as the corners of his mouth jerked upward and he expelled a light scoff, "Did'ja get the crystals?"

"Really?!" Dean asked incredulously.

"What?" Sam asked, "I'm sorry, but have you met out sister? Look, Bryan, I'm not condoning what'cha did," the young man shook his head in eager agreement as the oldest expelled an angry laugh, "Dean, did he tell you about it?"

"About a second before you came outta that bathroom," Dean said.

"So do y'think he was lookin' t'clear the air or actually enjoys getting beaten?" Sam asked his brother with a raised eyebrow.

Dean stared from Sam to Bryan and back, "So, what? Y'r'okay with him doin' that?"

"I just said I wasn't," Sam answered bitterly, "but you know how stubborn she is,  _and_  fuckin' sneaky. You gave him an order 'n all he was doin' was tryin' t'follow it. Pretty sure I remember a kid his age goin' ape shit on me a couple a times for a helluva lot less."

Bryan was stunned. He couldn't believe Sam was coming to his defense, knowing he didn't deserve it, but remained silent as Dean breathed heavily for a moment.

"We gotta go," the oldest said, wrenching the driver's door open on the Impala and dropping behind the seat before slamming it, hard.

"He'll be fine," Sam said with a curt nod and moved towards the passenger side.

Bryan silently got in his Buick, replaying the last minute in his mind, still astounded at the turn the conversation had taken. In retrospect, he should've handled it better, but Bryan wasn't sure how he could've, he'd never really had a girlfriend, let alone a beautiful, hardheaded witch whose family opened their home up to him after his Mom's passing. Everything about her was new to him, the only familiar thing was Dean.

The young man didn't want to admit the oldest reminded him of his Dad, the rough sarcasm, the strictly given orders and the rare moments he would express his pride, Bryan didn't want to admit it, but Dean reminded him of the father he missed every day. He wouldn't say the words out loud, he hardly allowed them to cross his thoughts consciously, but deep down he knew it was true, and it was strangely comforting to have a leader like Dean. His whole life, if Bryan was given an order he followed it. A single sharp swat was nothing compared to the punishments he'd gotten for botching a command, but Bryan had learned from every one, never repeating his mistakes. He wished Dean would see how capable he was, especially now, because he couldn't take a backseat on this mission. He wouldn't.

They drove for hours, the sun was high in the sky when Bryan's phone rang and he turned his radio down.

"Hello?" he answered, pressing the phone to his ear with a shoulder.

"Hey," Sam said, "we're gonna fill up, get some food really quick 'n meet up with Cas. Y'need gas?"

"Yeah," Bryan said, hoping they planned on hardly stopping, determined to keep going until Morgan was safely in his arms again.

He followed the Impala off the highway and into a mostly empty truck stop, complete with gas station and restaurant, again, the cars rumbled up to either side of a pump. Bryan kicked his door open and quickly started pumping gas, watching out of the corner of his eye as Dean did the same, averting his eyes from the young man. It would've bothered him to have Dean shunning him yesterday, but Bryan didn't care, he'd take the worst beating the warrior could dish out if it meant Morgan would be safe. He knew, unfortunately, that the two were entirely unrelated or Bryan would have already insisted Dean pummel him. A heavy yawn caught him off guard, sending a shiver up his spine and Bryan felt his eyelids weighing down, but shook his head in the cold air.

"Hey," Claire peeked around the pump and took a step next to him, "y'look like you could use some coffee."

"Yeah," he nodded, "a pot 'r two."

"You okay?" she asked.

"Y'r'talkin' t'me?" Bryan scoffed lightly, sure Claire must not have heard what happened between him and Morgan.

"I've had a few hours t'calm down," she smirked, "You can thank Sam for stealin' my phone, otherwise you'd've gotten some very colorfully worded texts."

"M'sure I deserve 'em," Bryan sighed.

"Bryan," Claire shook her head, "I know you were messed up about that hunt, and Dean put you in charge of Morgan,  _his_  sister, a girl he  _knows_  can be more stubborn than me even," she chuckled darkly, "I mean, what did he expect? If it makes y'feel any better, Sam told him he set you up t'fail, 'n I agree."

"Yeah, thanks," Bryan muttered, shoving the nozzle back in the pump, "ain't a whole lot that's gonna make me feel better right now."

"Hey," Dean stepped around the pump, acting as if he hadn't overheard their short conversation, "Claire, Sam's got a table inside."

She nodded and gave Bryan an encouraging grin before walking towards the door to the attached diner. Dean jerked his head towards a few empty parking spots and Bryan nodded, dropping behind the steering wheel without a word.

"Look, kid," Dean said as he shut his door after they parked, leaning against the Impala with his eyes on the sky before lowering to Bryan, "I kinda lost my shit when you told me that earlier. I'm still not happy about it, but it took guts for you to admit that t'me 'n well, I know you were just tryin' t'follow orders. So, just, we're good. Okay?"

"Yeah," Bryan couldn't help the scoff accompanying his response and Dean's gaze narrowed at him.

"Got somethin' t'say?" Dean growled.

"I don't care!" Bryan yelled, "Beat the shit outta me, Dean! Do it! We both know y'want to!"

Dean's eyebrows were high on his forehead as the young man raged, but as Bryan panted at him, the oldest nodded slowly, "Y'want me to?"

"Might as well," Bryan's voice broke as he looked at his boots, "'Cause I can't feel anything but pain right now anyway."

"Yeah," Dean put a hand on Bryan's shoulder, encouraging the young man to look at him as he continued, "I'm in the same boat, Bryan. I don't remember ever bein' this scared."

Bryan gave Dean a smirk of appreciation, "Y'r'scared?"

"Fuckin' terrified," Dean admitted.

"Me too," Bryan said.

"C'mon," Dean jerked his head, "Cas'll be here any minute, let's get some coffee."

* * *

The light had slowly faded in the barn as Morgan sat alone, wracking her brain on how to get out of there, but the cuffs wouldn't yield. The floor was dark, she could barely make out the straws of hay scattered around her feet as she simply hung her head in defeated exhaustion.

Morgan's eyes blurred with sleep and the remanence of tears, willing herself to stay awake, if no other reason than to avoid the obvious vulnerability. Though the demon had been gone for hours, since whatever time it had been she'd taunted Phelan with Morgan bound to the chair, perhaps she'd stay gone. Morgan preferred the idea of starving to death to any of the other options imminent at the moment.

Her wrists were raw, she'd finally stopped pulling at the restraints when blood dripped down her fingers, her useless fingers, unable to produce one simple, stupid, tiny spell. Morgan stared into the darkness, listening to the sounds of crickets in the distance, wings beating roughly in the breeze outside. Wings?

Morgan turned towards the patched ceilings, the crescent moon shone down through a gaping hole over her head and her jaw dropped open as the wings of a large falcon interrupted her view of the pale light. Her heart raced hearing the whooshing of powerful wings, the rush of the wind as the bird settled in the darkness before her, his beady eyes shining in the moonlight.

' _Elsu!'_  even Morgan's thoughts were ecstatic, ' _You found me!'_

' _I sensed you. It felt like you were in trouble_ ,' the falcon nodded, ' _Why are you here?_ '

' _It's a long story_ ,' she rolled her eyes, ' _A psycho demon kidnapped me.'_

 _'Oh,'_ he didn't seem terribly surprised, though Morgan reasoned the bird probably didn't understand the gravity of the situation,  _'Is there anything I can do?'_

 _'Do you think you can find my brothers?'_  her stomach twisted with hopeful anticipation.

 _'The very tall one and the one that wishes I was a dumbbell?_ ' Elsu clarified.

' _That would be them_ ,' Morgan nodded, ' _They're looking for me.'_

 _'I will do my best_ ,' he promised.

 _'Thank you_ ,' tears were welling in her eyes again and the falcon hopped onto her knee, rubbing his head against her cheek gently before pushing off and taking flight through the hole in the barn roof.

Perhaps there was hope after all.

_**REVIEWS GET ME THROUGH MY DAY AND DECREASE MY MURDEROUS THOUGHTS AT WORK ;) THANKS FOR READING! HOPE YOU ENJOYED!** _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personal Note: Thank you all so much for the solidarity on crappy jobs =) I don't mean to play out a theme here but mine is literally a family business lol so it's not that easy to walk away, and while I may get into it with the people I work with those aren't the ones I have to smile at while they treat me like a piece of shit. Don't hate me more than you already do, and we all have to make a living and at the end of the day I'm one of the most honest salesman that's ever exists, hence I lose to my competition a lot, but I sell cars for a living. I like it on an up and down scale like I'm sure most of you with your jobs, it's exciting sometimes and I love when I completely change someone's idea of a car salesman because at the end of the day I really do care about my customers way after the sale and that's what's important right? I mean sure, save $500 on a car after tearing your hair out, but then the guy who promised you free tires and oil changes doesn't work there anymore and blah blah blah, it's bullshit, I really wish all business could run the same, transparent with pricing as well as consumers understanding that people need to eat. You know who the real crooks are? Cell phone companies. Show me what a minute or data looks like and tell me why it's worth x amount per month... I'm not sayin' I'm just sayin' ... okay rant over. Let's get to what I do when I'm not working, or sleeping 'cause that's been a thing again lately
> 
> Story Note: I'm glad to hear for the most part everyone's enjoying Bryan's view point, it's honestly given me so much more freedom in this story to be able to switch perspectives and will open up for a lot more possibilities as this keeps rolling, Bryan seems a bit "unsettled" if you haven't noticed so we'll have to see where his thoughts are leading. Morgan is just plain screwed at the moment isn't she? All we can hope Elsu finds Sam and Dean in time...

Being confined, starved and beaten was not a new experience for Morgan. She simply despised that after months of freedom from her abuse it was forced on her again, and by someone she fully hated, without a kernel of respect, admiration or the hope of eventual love. No, while her emotions for her Mother had always been darkly mixed, Morgan’s feelings towards her current capture were anything but. She fucking hated that bitch.

Elsu’s brief visit had given her hope, unsure how the bird would communicate with her brothers, but she was hopeful none the less, though did have to actively stop herself from anticipating them bursting into the barn at any moment. Morgan tried to distract herself with facts, rereading the pictures of pages in her history book she’d memorized, but often found her thoughts wandering right back to the door, praying Sam and Dean would kick it open.

Dagon didn’t return until after the sun was high over the roof the next day, Morgan had fallen asleep again, despite her attempts to force herself not to, but the demon didn’t wake her harshly.

“Hey,” Dagon’s raspy voice echoed in her ears and Morgan blinked her eyes open quickly, tensing her whole body in anticipation of being struck, but the demon held up a large bottle of water, “Thirsty?”

“Screw you,” Morgan growled.

“Yeah, I know, kid,” Dagon sighed, unscrewing the cap, “Just drink huh?”

Morgan couldn’t answer before the bottle was shoved between her lips, forcing her head back as cool water filled her mouth. Sputtering to rid herself of the drowning sensation, Morgan tried to pull her head one way or the other, but then Dagon pulled the bottle away. She coughed and glared at the demon, though quickly glanced longingly at the water.

“Y’ready to not be a bitch about it?” Dagon asked, shaking the water bottle.

Morgan’s nostrils flared in anger, but her body ached from dehydration and she found herself nodding despite her pride.

“Good girl,” the demon smiled, holding the bottle to Morgan’s lips and letting the young witch guzzle freely a few moments, taking it away before she’d finished, “Can’t have you dying before we’re gonna kill you.”

“Phelan doesn’t know about your army,” she smirked, going right for the throat, uncaring of the consequences, “bet he’s not gonna be happy when he realizes it’s just you.”

“You don’t know anything!” Dagon snapped, she’d clearly hit a nerve.

“Yeah I do,” Morgan grinned, “I know y’lost most’a the demons backin’ you after my brothers ruined the wolves’ first step-”

“Shut up,” Dagon growled, but Morgan continued.

“An’ I know you know my brothers have a gun that’ll kill you. Four Princes of Hell t’start ‘n two of ‘em killed by Dean Winchester,” her mean laughter was interrupted by a sharp slap across her face, but the anger in Dagon’s eyes was enough to keep the smile on Morgan’s face.

“I said shut up!” the demon yelled, throwing the half-full bottle with rage and the water spilled to the dirty floor.

“I’ll shut up when you kill me,” Morgan told her, her stomach twisting with fear that Dagon would take her up on it, but reasonably knew she wouldn’t, she couldn’t.

“Soon then,” Dagon smiled evilly before turning to leave the barn.

“Collect all four, right?!” Morgan yelled after her, “Asmodeous was smart t’get outta their way!”

Dagon stopped in the doorway, turning slowly towards the witch who’d shut her mouth too late. The demon didn’t even speak, but twisted her hand in the air.

Morgan let out an agonizing scream, her insides were on fire as they turned about unnaturally, warm blood filled her mouth and drizzled down her chin, “ST-OP!”

“You don’ talk about my brothers,” Dagon said, squeezing her fingers into a tight fist and Morgan answered with another wail of pain, “Azazel was a god! Asmodeous is pathetic, and Ramiel, well just not as cunning as he thought he was, huh? But, girly, yours?” she laughed, twisting her hand again and Morgan could hardly cry out at the torture, “Yours are not the heroes you think they are, just wait, you’re gonna be screaming for them to save you all the way up until I let that filthy dog rip your heart from your chest, but they won’t. They are just men, stupid, little men, who have no idea what they’re up against.”

Dagon waved her hand with near disgust and left the barn while Morgan hung her head, watching the blood from her mouth drizzle onto her jeans, panting as the pain inside subsided. Her Mother had used magic on her many times, though the worst of it having been the burns she’d sustained as a toddler. In comparison, she’d have preferred the burns.

Morgan didn’t bother stopping her mind from wandering to her brothers, wondering how worried they were, what they were doing and if they had any plan to free her. Praying Elsu had found them, hoping they would find her, but losing faith in all of it as she stared at the emptying bottle of water on the dirty barn floor.

* * *

Bryan felt wrong eating, even if it was fast, everyone seemed to feel the same as they chewed rapidly, but they’d be useless walking into a fight starved. Bryan had noticed Sam usually ate salads when they went out, but when Dean ordered four cheeseburgers before they’d even sat down the younger Winchester hadn’t even batted an eye, taking huge bites as soon as the waitress set it in front of him. All in all, they were in the diner less than fifteen minutes, but Bryan couldn’t help wonder how much closer they could be to Morgan if they were still on the road.

Castiel had showed up as they finished shoveling burgers into their mouths and quickly left the diner, finding the back of the large truck-stop parking lot as private as any place to discuss their predicament. Bryan had never seen the angel with any sort of emotion he could pinpoint, but Castiel was seething with anger and, for as much as Bryan appreciated the solidarity to Morgan being kidnapped, the upset celestial-being was a bit terrifying.

“We have an idea where she is,” Dean said, “but it’s a lotta ground t’cover.”

“Let’s go then!” Castiel insisted.

“We are!” Dean barked, “Hold on, just one second, man. We need as much help as we can get. Can any’a your angel buddies, I know it’s a lot t’ask, ‘n they aren’t big fans of ours.”

“It wouldn’t matter,” Castiel shook his head, “The warding on her ribs won’t allow any of us to find her, they’ll be useless searching like humans, if we narrow it down, some of them may assist in fighting Dagon.”

Dean rolled his eyes at the vague promise of assistance, “So, this is what we’ve got.”

“I called Jody,” Sam offered, “She’s gonna meet us up there with Max ‘n Alicia.”

“They shouldn’t,” Dean said in regards to the twins.

“They want to,” Sam said firmly.

“Do we have a plan?” Claire asked.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, pulling the Colt from his inside jacket pocket, “Find Morgan ‘n kill the bitch who thought it was a good idea t’take my little sister from me.”

Bryan shivered at the intensity in Dean’s eyes, not to mention the Colt always left him with a chilled awe feeling. He could remember the first time he’d seen it, his Grandpa had pulled the antique gun from a wooden box, handing it directly to the little boy with a proud smile saying someday it would be his, but it wasn’t. It was Dean’s. For as hard as he tried to push it down, Bryan felt jealousy boiling in him every time the older man flashed the gun he should’ve inherited.

“Cas,” Sam began, “Is there anything we can use t’narrow down the search?”

“With that warding and the witch’s web I’m afraid not, Sam,” Castiel replied sullenly.

“We can split up,” Claire suggested, “Couple of us head to the Michigan side, the others to Wisconsin.”

“And when the team without the Colt finds her with Lake Michigan between us?” Dean asked pointedly.

Claire bit her lips together and looked down, a clear indication that she hadn’t thought the idea through. Dean didn’t admonish her for it, he seemed just as stressed and hadn’t recently suffered a concussion, but he actually nodded thoughtfully for a moment after his initial reaction.

“Alright,” Dean sighed, “We’re a few hours from Hammond, if we split, that’s where we do it.”

“Dean-” Sam tried, but his brother shook his head.

“If,” Dean repeated, “I don’t like it ‘n I’d like t’not to if we can help it, but we gotta cover as much ground as possible. We gotta couple hours t’come up with a better idea.”

They all nodded, even Sam.

Bryan and Claire followed Dean and Castiel while Sam took up the rear in his Mustang, it was a pain to have three cars, but no one wanted to leave theirs and decided it would just have to work. Dean had taken little convincing to let Claire ride in the Grand National instead of the backseat of the Impala, it only took a small pout from the blonde for him to concede, clearly not wanting to waste the time.

“She’s gonna be okay,” Claire said, turning the radio down a little.

“She already isn’t,” Bryan growled, tightening his grip on the wheel, they were going seventy-five in a fifty-five, but he really wished Dean would go faster.

“I know,” Claire nodded, “but she’s gonna be.”

“Hope you’re right,” he muttered quietly.

He didn’t want to talk about it, he just wanted to fix it. Talking about it made all the anger, fear, guilt and grief inside him stir more than it already did. Bryan hated the torment behind his ribs, the ache in his heart and the stabbing in the pit of his stomach, it was how he’d felt when his Mom had died, when his Dad had died. He couldn’t be helpless this time, he wouldn’t. Morgan was in danger and whether Dean accepted it or not, he was going to be on the front lines with them.

The last few hours he’d spent with her had been a mix of arguments and compromises, ending with him saying something he didn’t mean and knew was stupid. If he’d just gone after her to apologize right away instead of waiting and perfecting his words, he couldn’t even remember what he’d planned to say, but he might have been able to stop Morgan’s capture.

Bryan sniffled, wiping his tingling nose as if he had a cold starting, blinking the tears out of his eyes as he focused on the road ahead. Eighty-three, that’s more like it Dean.

* * *

Wood was useless. Morgan had blindly ripped one long splinter after another off the pieces of the chair back she could reach, trying to pick her handcuffs with the small amount of experience she had, but every splinter snapped under the slightest pressure. It was frustrating and pointless, her fingers bleeding from the tiny shards stuck in her skin, but, until she couldn’t find another ragged edge to pull, Morgan kept trying. Sure, she’d succeed in dismantling the chair before unlocking her hands from the anti-magic cuffs. It was an unsettling feeling to say the least. She could feel her power, not like when she hadn’t been a witch for that brief time, Morgan still felt magic pumping in her veins, but it was behind a dam, out of reach, useless.

The sun had set again, not that she’d paid attention, but the barn was dark and getting darker. Her wrists were agonizingly raw from tugging at her restraints so much, but she couldn’t help it, every once in a while, desperately pulling against them and crying from the pain. She started to consider how necessary her hands really were. If she continued pulling hard enough she might be able to slowly slice through to the bones, but the cuffs wouldn’t have the strength to continue, let alone her will power under that amount of agony, it was a stupid, despairing idea she knew, even while thinking about it, was pointless.

Rustling outside the barn stole her attention from unhelpful escape plans and Morgan whipped her head around in the dark, trying to decide where the sound was coming from. Her heart raced with anxiety and hope, praying her brothers were creeping along the perimeter. As the barn door creaked open, however, the four dark figures approaching her made Morgan’s mouth go dry, wanting to scream, but knowing it was fruitless.

Even in the darkness, Phelan was unmistakable.

“Hello, daughter of Odin,” he said in a low, growling voice.

“My name is Morgan,” she said with as much confidence as she could find in the hollow terror she felt.

“I don’t care,” Phelan chuckled darkly, “Your name is inconsequential, I only require your heart.”

“Good luck with that, Scooby,” Morgan spit, almost wishing she could aggravate him enough to kill her, at least then he couldn’t complete his plans for Ragnarok on the full moon.

“You little-” one of the men advanced angrily, but Phelan held him back with a lazy hand, shaking his head and laughing.

“Julian,” he said almost gently, “I appreciate your vigilance, but I do not need protection from this, girl.”

“Sir,” Julian nodded, keeping his head down as he retracted his steps behind the Alpha again.

Phelan turned his gleaming eyes back on Morgan, “We may have missed our first opportunity at the full moon, but there will be another, soon. The next half moon is less than a week’s time, step one _will be_ completed, and I do hope your brothers will join us again.”

“They’ll kill you,” she growled.

“Not likely,” he smirked, “No, but they have many of my family’s blood on their hands, they shall pay for that.”

“Yeah,” Morgan scoffed, still actively trying to rattle him, “they’ve killed the Devil, Alpha Vampire, Leviathan ‘n Death, but, y’know, y’r’right, I’m sure Wile E. Coyote will pull off a win this time.”

That did it. Morgan saw Phelan’s shoulders stiffen into a somehow even wider stance and braced herself for an attack, but none came. His shoulders dropped a little as he exhaled and smiled bitterly at her.

“I’m looking forward to hearing all the jokes you can make about where this _wolf_ will be putting you next,” he said with a hint of amusement, “I assure you, this, is The Ritz in comparison.”

Morgan’s stomach dropped, twisting with anxiety at the idea of being taken by Phelan and his Betas. Her only hope was that Elsu would find her brothers and lead them to the barn, but if she wasn’t in the barn that plan was completely useless. Like everything else she had at the moment, her hands, the pile of broken splinters below her from multiple, pathetic attempts to free herself, everything was useless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To avoid any confusion, though I doubt there will be, the biblical guy with the mark was Cain, but in tribute to a few of my favorite work colleagues I named a couple of the fuzzy characters after them, one being Kane, I just don't want anyone to see the name and do a double-take

Bryan was content to keep driving as they neared Hammond, Indiana, but Claire's phone rang with an order from Dean to follow him at the next turn off for gas, admittedly the Buick could use a top off after the heavy acceleration for several hours.

"What'cha got on the witch's web?" he asked Claire after she hung up the phone and returned to the map on her tablet.

"Well," Claire expelled a short sigh, "if she's on land we might not be in that bad of a spot."

"What if she's on an island?" Bryan asked, making sure all possible scenarios were considered.

"Satellite map doesn't show any," Claire shook her head, "There's only a sliver a land in the three corners, but they're pretty spread out."

Bryan nodded, holding back his negative thoughts.

Dean exited the highway taking a left towards a mess of gas stations and fast food restaurants. Bryan hoped no one was hungry, he didn't want this stop to take any longer than filling the tank, pulling up to the pump behind Dean as Sam rumbled on the opposite side in his Mustang.

Castiel got out of the vehicle and Bryan bit his lips, holding in his anger as he roughly shoved the nozzle into the Grand National's gas tank. The angel didn't need to use the bathroom, or eat, or any of those inconvenient human requirements that was already slowing them down, Bryan thought he should just stay in the car, like Claire.

"I'm gonna use the bathroom," Claire said, closing the passenger door behind her and the young man actively stifled a growl.

"Sam," Dean jerked his head at Claire and the younger Winchester nodded.

"I'm-" Claire began to protest, but at the identical glares she received from the brothers, thought better of it and just shook her head, walking into the gas station with Sam.

"Hey, Bryan," Dean said, "We're all in a hurry."

"I know," Bryan furrowed his brow in confusion at the raised eyebrow expression Dean was giving him.

"Get off my ass if y'know what's good for yours," Dean said simply and Bryan felt heat rise on his face from anger and embarrassment as Castiel observed the exchange.

"Yes, sir," Bryan mumbled.

Claire and Sam returned a few minutes later and Claire handed Bryan a bottle of water that he had no intention of drinking, but thanked her anyway.

"Ok," Dean began, glancing around, but there was no one else in the parking lot in the start of late afternoon, "Benton Harbor's closest to us now, 'n Jody's already closin' in on Manitowoc up in Wisconsin, so Claire, you're goin' with Sam in the Impala t'meet them, Cas is takin' the Mustang up to Ludington 'n Bryan 'n I are headin' to Benton Harbor."

Bryan's stomach churned thinking about riding alone with Dean. The last time he'd been in a car alone with the man had been immediately following the whipping of his life, though the conversation following had brought a new side of Dean to light and the young man couldn't help but admire the experienced hunter even more after the entire ordeal. Still, riding alone with Dean Winchester when the mission was to save a girl they mutually cared for in vastly different ways was extremely intimidating. He nodded his understanding, reminding himself that Dean had the Colt and at least he would be with the gun, hoping they found Morgan and the yellow eyed monster that had taken her, wishing he could be the one to put a bullet in her satanic royal skull.

"If Bryan 'n I come up with squat," Dean continued, "We're headin' North t'meet Cas, we all need t'stay in contact as much as we can, if somebody gets a whiff, send up the flares before you go in, or better yet, wait for back up if y'can."

"Wait?!" Claire scoffed, "If I see Morgan 'n she's-"

"Claire!" Sam barked, shocking everyone and gaining all of their attentions, "We're all scared, but you follow your orders. Got it?"

She nodded at the ground, either surprised that Sam had scolded her or accepting the situation for what it was, Bryan wasn't sure, but figured it was probably a bit of both.

Dean grabbed a couple duffels from the Impalas trunk, but before he slammed the lid a screech overhead turned everyone's heads to the sky. Shielding their eyes to the late afternoon sun, Bryan's heart raced at the shadowy wingspan of a large bird circling them.

"No way," Sam said in awe.

"Elsu!" Claire gasped.

The familiar falcon came to rest on the overhang roof of the gas pumps, inclining his head one way and the other at the group staring up at him from the ground.

"Do you know this bird?" Castiel asked.

"Morgan made him," Dean sounded proud and sad, glancing hopefully at his brother, "Do you think he knows where she is?"

"How're we gonna know?" Sam shrugged in frustration, "We're lookin' for the only person who can talk t'that thing."

"Morgan communicates with animals?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah," Dean said nonchalantly, "It's just a spell, she doesn't have to drink any crappy potions or anything," at the angels confused expression, Dean shook his head, "Never mind."

Castiel however, turned his gaze up at Elsu, who turned his beady eyes on the angel. It was a moment before everyone saw what was happening, watching the bird nod and tilt his head occasionally how he did during a silent conversation with his creator. Castiel as well was nodding or shaking his head every once in a while, his expression changing while no words escaped his lips. After a few minutes of undisturbed quiet, the angel extended an arm and the falcon fluttered down, landing softly with its talons wrapping around the tan trench coat sleeve as Castiel gently stroked Elsu's feathers with the back of his other hand.

"Cas?" Dean broke the silence finally.

"Yes?" Castiel turned with wide eyes, shaking his head as if from a daze a brief moment later, but his smile only grew, "Yes, Elsu here has been very helpful. He found Morgan in a barn in the early hours of this morning."

The news seemed to hit everyone differently as Bryan's eyes went wide at Dean, begging for an order as he formulated his own plans in case the Winchesters didn't make a decision quickly enough. Claire grabbed Castiel around the waist, causing Elsu to flutter his wings angrily, but stayed latched onto the angel's arm. Sam was swiping madly on his phone and Dean turned to the bird as if he intended to speak to it.

"Where?" Dean demanded.

"Considering where he said he came from, how long it took him to get here and where the lake was on the journey," Castiel said rationally, turning back to the falcon for a few moments before nodding and looking again at Dean, "Wisconsin."

"Why is it always freakin' Wisconsin, man?" the oldest Winchester growled, but his tone was at least more hopeful than it had been.

"Hey, check this out," Sam stepped forward with his phone screen flat in his hand, pinching to enlarge a satellite map, "There's a few miles of Manitowoc on the shore that fall in the triangle. Right here," he adjusted the map to show the skeletal remains of a farm surrounded by forest and fields, "Government owned on the preserve, off limits to the public."

"Let's go," Dean was already tossing his duffels back in the trunk and heading for the driver's seat.

Bryan wasted no time jumping behind the wheel of the Grand National, feeling a small amount of relief with a destination, still unsure of Morgan's fate, though she'd still been alive in the early morning according to Castiel's conversation with the magic falcon. He also felt a bit relieved not having to ride alone with Dean, sure the older man would've insisted on driving and Bryan wasn't big on the idea of sitting shotgun in his own car. As they plowed onto the highway, though, the young man was conscious of staying back a little further from the Impala's rear bumper.

* * *

Morgan's mind was racing, trying to think of anything to say that would deter Phelan from removing her from the barn, in complete disbelief of herself for wishing to stay, but knowing hope was higher if she did. The Betas loomed forward in the pale moonlight shining through the holes in the barn roof, Julian licking his lips at her disgustingly, the rest just glaring with menacing eyes, waiting for instructions from their leader.

Phelan smiled evilly, "Marco, Kane, remove her from that chair."

Two of the Betas, one with very short, dark hair and tan skin, the other, nearly the size of his Alpha, with shaggy, blonde hair, stepped forward and Morgan tensed, pulling again at the bindings on her legs and wrists, biting her lips on the pain. They smelled like the worst kind of cologne, and a lot of it, the blonde smirked, lowering his hands to either side of the seat to hold the chair steady as his partner disappeared behind her.

Anxiety and concern turned to hot anger the moment the blonde werewolf's fingers grazed along the outsides of her thighs, he grinned as she flared her nostrils at him. Working her only defense with her tongue a moment before hocking a wad of spit into his very close face, ready for the backhanded smack well before it came.

"Stop!" Phelan barked, pulling his Beta away from Morgan.

"Sir," he cowered, making himself look much smaller than the Alpha despite the similarity in their size, "She spit on me."

"I saw," Phelan nodded calmly, "I imagine she did not appreciate where your hands ended up, Kane."

His shaggy blonde hair covered his face as he hung his head further in front of his leader, who simply pushed him back into line and turned to the always eager, Chicago born wolf, "Julian, would you care to demonstrate the art of being a gentleman while taking a female captive."

"With pleasure, sir," Julian smiled threateningly as he took a step towards Morgan.

"That won't be necessary," Dagon's voice dragged all of their attention to the barn door, where the demon leaned lazily in the doorway, "She's not going anywhere."

Morgan couldn't believe she felt relieved to see the evil bitch, but, desperate times.

"Dagon," Phelan said in the same calm voice, "good of you to join us."

"Is it?" Dagon chuckled, "I appreciate you checking on my guest, but she's perfectly fine."

"Of course," Phelan nodded, reflecting the demon's ominous smile, "and she will continue to be so, under my eye, until the full moon."

"Nice try, Sparky," Dagon sneered, taking a step into the barn, "You and your mangy mutts have until the end of this sentence to leave before I kill you all."

"And lose your last opportunity to avenge your master's death and fulfill his purpose?" Phelan nearly laughed, "No, you and I are not equals in this, you are right, but you are mistaken if you believe I am the inferior one. I am the one who must perform the act, and, I am the one with an army."

Morgan's eyes widened, shifting between the Alpha werewolf and the Prince of Hell with terrified anticipation. Everything happened quickly, in a matter of seconds. Dagon sent a fiery blast at Phelan, who dodged it, pulling Kane out of the way, but colliding with Julian and the force of three werewolves toppling into each other pushed Morgan into Marco behind her and she heard snapping and cracking as she landed on him with Julian on top of her. He was gone in the same moment it seemed that he landed, though Marco was writhing in pain as Morgan rolled to the floor, kicking her legs of the chair debris. Something in her arms was definitely dislocated, or broken, or both, but she was free. At least of the chair and while the wolves rushed the demon, the little witch snaked herself quickly towards a hole in the bottom of the wall she'd been staring at over the time she'd been there, sure she could fit it.

The backs of her knees were repeatedly punished by the remaining pieces of chair legs tied to her calves, but, in her desperation, it took less than a moment to slip herself all the way through to the grass outside. Biting her lips together, Morgan scrunched her legs as best she could and rapidly pulled her arms under her feet, muffling the grunt of pain and jumping to her feet as soon as she pulled the wood from behind her legs. She ran as fast as she could away from the barn, not knowing where she was or where she was going, but there were trees ahead and decided some type of coverage would be her best option.

Her shoulder ached, badly, not that the rest of her felt great, but there was definitely something wrong with her right shoulder. Small price to pay if she succeeded in escaping. The scuffling in the barn faded as she sprinted towards the woods, but Morgan assumed that was due to distance, or hoped it was, if they noticed she was gone that might just be what brought them together as a team again.

When she reached the edge of the forest, Morgan turned back only briefly, relieved to see no one following, also comforted by the direction she chose as the hint of a large lake, the moon reflecting luminously even it's quarter stage, could be made out in the near distance beyond the fields. That was definitely not the way she wanted to go, and she hurried into the forest with the next issue of removing the cuffs wracking her brain.

Her heart was still pounding after fifteen minutes of walking in the dark forest, turning her head constantly and listening for any and every sound that might mean the werewolves or Dagon had found her. She'd found a creek and practically bathed in it a brief minute, it was freezing and Morgan knew that alone might kill her in the icy conditions, but there was a chance her scent would be lost to the wolves and that was worth the risk. Her teeth chattered as she continued walking, clasping her hands together at her chest in a strange pretzel since the cuffs wouldn't allow her to cross her arms, just trying to keep her heart as warm as possible. Her clothes were turning to icicles on her body as she crunched along dead leaves and twigs, tripping occasionally, but only falling once.

The trees began to thin and it was a relief to find a road, though the idea that the werewolves would pull up and snatch her from the side of it into their giant, black SUV was scary enough she stayed hidden in the woods, deciding to follow the road from a distance. She heard a car pass after a few minutes, her pants too stiff to let her run and she missed the chance to get to the road before they were gone. Morgan decided to stick a little closer to the road, though still near the trees, it was dark and there were no streetlights, she had to take the chance.

No more cars came as she continued trudging through the edge of the woods, praying for a miracle, praying for Dean, for Sam, for Cas. She wasn't sure if Cas heard prayers anymore, she knew her brothers had used it to call him years ago, but all she'd ever seen them use to communicate was a cell phone. If she only had her cell phone. What had that bitch done with her phone? Morgan couldn't believe her own thoughts as she found herself hoping whatever that cloud thing was worked, scoffing at herself, even if the concern had been unintentional, she was lucky to be alive.

It was quiet and several times Morgan turned, thinking she heard the sound of her name being called, but, after a few moments of stillness and intense listening, realized she was being ridiculous and continued her trek. When the rumble of the Impala echoed in her ears she actually rolled her eyes to avoid tears, angry at her own mind for playing such mean tricks on her. Morgan shook her head, but the sound only grew louder. Her heart raced as the familiar glow of the wide-set quad-style headlights lit up the road and her feet were pounding onto and into the road without any contemplation.

The Impala screeched to a halt a few feet in front of her, Morgan was blind in the brightness of the headlights, but her chest was seizing with anxiety, relief, terror, concern and hope all at once. As the driver's door flew open and her oldest brother got out, his expression an exact match of hers, Morgan felt her knees going weak, wobbling towards him, but he had her in his arms before she could take more than two steps.

Dean held her so tight Morgan could hardly turn her head, but knew who it was when another large body pressed against her back, completing a very necessary family hug. She didn't even realize she'd started bawling until they released her, at least Sam stepped next to Dean while the oldest kept his arms around her, his shirt soaked from her tears. Morgan couldn't wipe them away fast enough as they poured from her eyes and Dean swiped his thumbs across her cheeks, pulling her head towards himself and planting a kiss on her forehead, finally letting her go.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Dean began quickly, "Where were you? How did you get out? Are you okay?"

"Dean," Sam said firmly, "Gotta give her room t'answer, man."

"I'm mostly okay," she shrugged, wincing at the pain, "My shoulder's fucked up."

"Hey," they both admonished automatically.

"Really guys?" she furrowed her brow challengingly, "I just spent the last day 'n half gettin' kicked around by a Prince of Hell, nearly dragged off by Phelan and his followers, escaped due to a fluke distraction and just ran  _miles_  through the woods after takin' an ice bath in a creek, so yeah, sorry, I'm a little  _fucked_   _up_."

Neither Sam or Dean looked remotely angry, just shaking their heads in what seemed to be happy amusement and disbelief at her fiery attitude.

"What'd y'take the dip for?" Dean asked as he reached into the car for a blanket.

"Thought it would help lose my scent 'r somethin'," Morgan shrugged, realizing it was probably stupid.

"Smart," Dean nodded, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders.

"Let me get those cuffs off you," Sam offered, pulling his lock pick from his pocket.

"Sam," Cas suddenly stepped forward, "let me," with a wave of his hand, the restraints vanished.

"Thanks, Cas-ELSU!" Morgan looked up from her hands to thank the angel and found her falcon sitting on his shoulder.

"Yeah that things a hoot in the car," Dean muttered.

"He didn't enjoy it either I assure you," Cas retorted.

"Elsu," Morgan sighed happily, locking her eyes on the bird,  _'Thank you. You've saved me.'_

 _'It looks as though you saved yourself,'_  the bird nodded.

 _'Hardly,'_ Morgan shook her head,  _'I will never be able to repay you for this.'_

Elsu cocked his head so far it was nearly upside down,  _'You gave me wings, and outside, it is I who will never be able to repay you, Morgan, but I am glad to be able to do you this favor. I like this one,'_  he gently squeezed a talon on the angel's shoulder,  _'Though why he chooses your brother as his best friend I will never know, that man,'_  Elsu simply ruffled his feathers in completion,  _'I shall leave you now, but we will see each other again, I'm sure.'_

Morgan waved with her less injured arm as the bird took flight, quickly getting lost in the darkness.

"Okay," Dean clapped his hands, "we need t'get the hell outta here."

"Home?" Morgan asked hopefully.

"Home, Sweetie," he opened the rear door of the Impala for her to slide in, Morgan offered a quick and encouraging smile to her friends standing by their open doors of the Buick before sliding onto the familiar, black leather.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you liked the last chapter, but it seems too good to be true doesn't it? Things usually are for the Winchesters so we'll have to see how the aftermath plays out with our villains, not to mention Morgan might be more affected by her recent kidnapping than she thinks...

It had been especially difficult for Bryan to keep an appropriate distance between his Buick and the back of the Impala after Elsu's arrival, though the young man considered if Dean thought  _he_ was a tailgater then the man should really have a conversation with his younger brother. Bryan could practically feel Sam breathing on his neck from the Mustang. They were all eager, travelling at over 100 miles per hour for most of the trip while the sun set in their driver's windows.

Claire had examined every inch of the satellite map around the barn on her tablet and called Dean a few times as she found access roads and preserve paths, though her last two calls had gone unanswered and they watched Dean dramatically toss his phone to Cas beside him.

"Jerk," she mumbled, crossing her arms and leaning back.

"Yeah, well," Bryan shrugged, "maybe don't call him every time you find a picnic spot?"

"Shut up," Claire grumbled bitterly.

"Just sayin'," Bryan smirked, "We've got a hell'uv'a lot more t'work with now than we did a couple hours ago, we're gettin' close, just," he trailed off, shaking his head.

"What?" Claire scoffed lightly, "Where'd the positivity come from all of a sudden?"

"I know where she is," Bryan stared determinedly out the windshield and released the accelerator as he crept too close to the Impala.

Once they arrived in the area, the plan was to let Elsu do surveillance on the situation before they approached the barn. Bryan's palms were clammy on the steering wheel as they wound through the heavy woods, his heart racing with anxiety and excitement. When the Impala's rear lights lit up, however, his stomach lurched as he found himself barreling at the trunk. Bryan slammed on the brakes with both large boots, thankful he'd recently put new pads on the front wheels and amazed Sam managed to maneuver to the shoulder as he brought the Mustang to a screeching halt beside the Buick.

Dean got out of the Impala and sprinted at something in front of it Bryan couldn't see, but Sam's incredulous expression changed to shock and awe as he bolted from his car towards his brother. Bryan and Claire pushed out of the Grand National and the young man's heart felt like it would explode at the sight of Morgan sandwiched between her brothers in the bright stream of headlights. He wanted to run to her, to hold her in his own embrace, but Bryan resisted the urge, knowing it was a needed family moment and they couldn't possibly have much time.

Though a pang of anger and resentment surged through him when Castiel exited the Impala and approached the Winchesters with Elsu perched on his shoulder. Even from Bryan's vantage point he could tell the falcon and oldest Winchester had not enjoyed their drive together, having seen Dean at one point aim his gun at the bird, though lowered it when the angel was obviously angered and, once he had, Elsu took the opportunity to quickly bite Dean on the ear. Bryan had to admit, while he begrudged Castiel for interrupting what the young man knew was a private moment, the angel was more helpful than he could be at the moment as he saw a soft glow of light illuminate the backseat of the Impala before Castiel exited the sedan.

Dean, made a signal with his finger that Bryan understood meant to follow him and he sunk back behind his steering wheel, looking over at Claire slowly. The blonde's expression was a reflection of his own, shock, amazement and confusion, it was a few moments before they spoke, Bryan hadn't even realized he'd started driving.

"Did she escape?" Claire breathed finally.

"I, I guess," Bryan said in the same astounded tone.

"How?" Claire asked.

"I dunno," Bryan shook his head in disbelief, "because she's an amazing, sneaky little witch."

"Yeah she is," Claire agreed.

* * *

Sam had insisted on riding in the Impala and Cas had no interest in arguing with him, but stopped in the backseat quickly on his way to the Mustang and Morgan readily accepted the angel's offer to heal her wounds.

"I gotta call Jody," Sam said after Morgan's quick report of what had happened while Dean drove fast down the road.

"Tell her we're sorry if we took them too far outta the way," Dean said, "but I'm not stoppin' 'til we get home."

Sam nodded in agreement with the phone to his ear, "Jody, hey- Actually, we found her- She escaped! - Yeah, I guess she is," he chuckled lightly, "I'm sorry if we slowed up y'r'plans with the twins- Well, thank you- Yeah, we're headin' home right now- That's what we thought too- Thanks, Jody."

"Did y'have a whole hunter squad comin' to get me?" Morgan grinned at her brothers, leaning on the back of the front seat.

"And Max for some witch power," Sam smirked.

"Crowley 'n Rowena helped," Dean added.

"And Elsu," Morgan reminded.

"Y'know that goddamn bird almost took of my ear," Dean said, pointing at a faint red mark on his right ear.

"Did you deserve it?" Morgan asked.

"No," Dean grumbled unconvincingly.

"I wonder what happened to the werewolves," Sam said, mostly to himself, as he stared out the window.

"What'd y'mean?" Dean asked.

"Are they alive?" Sam pondered, "Did Dagon kill them? Some of them? I just wish I knew what we were dealing with now."

"Yeah, I know," Dean nodded.

Morgan sat back on the black leather, her stomach churning with a strange mix of anger, sadness and guilt. Did her brothers wish she'd stayed and could've evaluated the situation for themselves instead of working off her memory of the rapid details? Sam noticed her retreat and turned with concern in his eyes.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Besides you guys wishin' I was still there, yeah," she sneered.

"WHAT?!" both brothers shouted as the Impala jerked to the side of the ride and stopped quickly.

"I'm sorry I can't give you enough info on what happened," she continued bitterly as they gaped at her, "Sure, if we'd gone with your plan you'd know what to expect, but I promise we would not have all walked away from that!"

"Morgan," Sam shook his head, "No one wishes you were still there."

"What the hell would make you even think that?!" Dean barked.

Morgan shrugged for lack of a better response, not quite sure where the angry outburst had come from, but still felt the hot urge in her chest.

"Morgan," Sam said gently, but firmly, "that's not at all what I meant, you know that. I am so, beyond ecstatic you escaped, and  _so_  proud, Sweetie, you have no idea."

"We both are," Dean nodded.

Morgan felt heat rising on her cheeks as she smirked sadly at them, unsure where the outburst had come from and finding herself a bit embarrassed. There was an edge inside she couldn't let go, an anger had blossomed while chained in the barn and Morgan wondered how long until the rage settled.

"Can we get some food?" she asked quietly, "I'm really hungry."

"Of course," Dean nodded, "C'mere," he leaned over the back of the front seat and held her close, kissing her hair before letting her go, "I can't believe you're here, Sweetie, I was so scared."

"You were?" Morgan found herself a little surprised at Dean's confession, not shocked that he was scared, simply that he admitted it.

"Like I've never been," he said before turning front again and accelerating onto the road, "Let's find a drive-thru."

Dean was more than serious about her not getting out of the car until they got home, though relented after she insisted if she didn't go to the bathroom he was not going to be happy about what would happen to his backseat. Morgan reasonably understood her brothers' concern, but that didn't mean she wasn't mortified being walked into a women's bathroom by Dean with the Colt concealed in his jacket, thankful at least that the gas station was empty besides the confused clerk.

Bryan was standing outside the rear door of the Impala when they walked out together and before Dean could say anything, Morgan took the opportunity to jump at him with her arms around his neck. The young man seemed a little surprised, but his arms wrapped around her tightly as he buried his head in her neck.

"I'm so sorry," his words were muffled, but Morgan heard them clearly and leaned back to meet his damp eyes.

"For what?" she shook her head in confusion.

"I said," Bryan began, but sighed, "I didn't mean it-"

"A'right kids," Dean reached around them and pulled the door open, "this reunion can wait, I wanna get as much distance between us 'n them as we can."

Bryan nodded curtly, squeezing Morgan before letting her go and walking back to his car and replacing the gas nozzle back on the pump. Claire waved sadly from the passenger seat, clearly having been told to stay put, and Morgan waved back through the rear windshield before turning in her seat.

"Here," Dean handed her a pillow and blanket as he dropped behind the wheel, "you look exhausted."

"I am," she nodded, the burger in her stomach was still warm and she felt her eyelids getting heavy as her anxiety had calmed and her body healed, finding comfort on the familiar leather with the powerful engine rumbling underneath.

* * *

Bryan held Dean's glare as the man exited the gas station with his hand on Morgan's shoulder, the other on the Colt in his jacket, but the young man held his ground next to the door. He only wanted a moment, one moment to hold her in his arms and apologize for his stupidity, Bryan was honestly surprised Dean didn't stop him sooner.

"So you can talk t'her, but I can't?" Claire grumbled as they followed Dean out of the gas station.

"I had t'pump gas anyway," Bryan shrugged, "C'mon, Claire, everybody's on edge right now. When we get back, shit'll settle down. We have her back, that's what matters."

"I know," Claire nodded.

Bryan yawned with exhaustion, but refused Claire's offer to drive, insisting she looked more tired than him, which was apparently true when Claire fell into a quiet sleep a few minutes later against the passenger window. The Impala's taillights were his entire focus as they drove down dark country roads, still hours from Kansas, but knowing Morgan was safe in the car ahead and didn't harbor any anger towards him kept a smile on Bryan's face.

* * *

Dagon was stalking towards her quickly, a chain wrapped around her hand as she dragged Phelan like a dog to keep up and Morgan tried to move, but she couldn't. There was nothing binding her wrists or legs, she simply couldn't move as the demon loomed closer. Morgan let out a piercing scream of terror as the Prince of Hell smiled sickeningly at her, but the awful grin vanished as her eyes flew open in the dark.

"Morgan?" Sam's voice dragged her attention from the black leather to her brother leaning over the back of the seat, "Are you okay?"

She nodded slowly as her panting calmed, "Just a bad dream."

"We're almost home," Dean said, "You'll be in y'r'own bed soon."

Morgan smiled a little at that, missing her bed, her room and the full kitchen just across the hall.

She sat up and let her eyes adjust to the darkness, recognizing the dusty road they were on and anticipated the cave entrance just before the outline was visible ahead. Dean took the familiar turns through the tunnel, but stopped well before the doors when his headlights illuminated more than the massive wooden garage entrance. Morgan stared through the windshield while leaning on the back of the front seat, all three Winchesters narrowed their eyes at the man huddled in a corner, but Dean quickly cocked his pistol and pushed out of the Impala.

Morgan screamed when the man stood with a child curled in his arms, "GARTH!"

"Stay!" Sam barked as Morgan's hand flew for the door handle and he kicked his own door open.

Morgan considered a short moment, but the tunnel had to be covered under the bunker's warding and, with that in mind, pushed out her door.

"I didn't know what t'do Dean," Garth was in tears, shaking with Channing in his arms, sound asleep, "I didn't know where t'go."

"Here," Dean said, "You come here, Garth."

"My Bess," Garth sobbed and Dean caught the thin man in his arms.

Morgan felt a hard hand grip her upper arm and looked up into Sam's angry face as he started dragging her back to the Impala.

"I told you t'stay put," he growled quietly.

"I was just-" she tried.

"Not now," Sam whispered firmly, pushing her gently through the rear door and shutting it hard.

Morgan felt her gut swirl with worry and pain at the sight of Garth clinging to his son and her brother, praying Bess was alright, but knowing better than to think that was possible.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad so many of you are really into this story! I love your feedback and always appreciate hearing what you think! Thank you!!

Dean had unlocked and pushed open the heavy wooden doors, leading Garth and Channing in before the Impala, Grand National and Mustang rumbled into the garage.

"Sam?" Morgan asked from the backseat as he threw the shifter into park, "Is Bess," she couldn't say it, letting her words trail off, knowing her brother understood the question.

"Yeah," he said in a very quiet, sad voice, his head hung a moment before he pushed out of the Impala without another word, pulling open the backdoor as he slammed the driver's.

"Is that Garth?" Claire asked, hurrying around to Morgan's side as if she was afraid she'd miss another opportunity to greet her best friend.

"Claire," Sam snapped, but took a deep breath and calmed himself, "Don't ask questions right now. Okay? None'a you, please."

Bryan, Claire, Morgan and even Cas nodded their understanding and Sam jerked his head towards the hallway in a silent order they all followed quickly, grabbing their bags and leaving the garage. Although Claire stole a moment to throw her arms around Morgan, whispering a promise they'd talk soon, before following Bryan through the doorway.

Morgan slung her backpack straps over her shoulders and Sam already had her duffel next to his own in his large grip, his other reached out and gently grabbed around the back of her neck. She reacted on instinct in the same moment and ripped away from him, her eyes wide with fear until they met her brother's, filled with hurt and concern.

"I'm, I'm sorry," she stammered, stepping next to him and leaning into his warm side.

"Don't be," he put his arm around her shoulders carefully, pulling her into a quick squeeze before they left the garage to follow the others.

Morgan felt her heartbeat slowing back to normal, angry at herself for having such a ridiculous reaction to Sam. Sam, the brother who always understood and was perpetually gentle. What was wrong with her?

Dean was walking into the open room as they approached, everyone else seemed to have dispersed in the bunker.

"Morgan, how 'bout a shower?" Dean asked.

"That bad huh?" she smirked.

He chuckled lightly, "It ain't good."

"Yeah," she nodded, walking towards the hallway, eager to be in her own room, but turned back to her brothers as they started speaking close in low voices, "Is Garth-"

"Morgan, shower, now," Dean ordered firmly and Sam raised his eyebrows pleadingly.

She bit her lips and walked away from them towards her bedroom, wondering if Dean would've shouted at her if Garth's wife hadn't just died, then filled with anger at herself for the thought. She pushed open her bedroom door and sighed, tears stinging her eyes at the sight of the completely untouched space, exactly as she'd left it, including her history text stacked under a Men of Letter's spell book on her nightstand.

Morgan shut the door behind her and fell face first onto her unmade bed, letting her backpack fall to the floor. Nothing had ever been so comfortable and her chest welled with emotions abruptly- sadness, happiness, terror- all of it washed over her in moments, breaking her lips with a sob. She was safe. Wasn't she? She was home. Right? Of course she was, her brothers were being over protective maniacs and they'd returned to a widower and his son crouched in their doorway. Yes, this was definitely the Winchester household.

Morgan took a few deep breaths, reminding herself to be strong, she was fine, she could handle this, she was home. Get over it. She was a Winchester, not a Losechester! Pushing herself off the bed, Morgan grabbed fresh clothes from her dresser and headed towards the bathroom.

She expected the door to open before it did, giving Claire credit for at least a few extra moments of restraint.

"Hey," her friend forced a grin, leaning in her own bedroom doorway, "How y'doin'?"

"M'fine," Morgan shrugged, though would rather not recount her actual feelings, not sure the blonde would understand, "just wanna grab a shower."

"I'm sure," Claire scoffed lightly, "Did they let you like, never mind, I won't, just, how'd you get out?"

"Can we talk about it later?" Morgan felt her throat tightening while anger made her heart race, hoping they didn't have to talk about it at all, she'd talk about it enough with Sam and Dean.

"Yeah," Claire nodded dramatically, "of course, sorry, take y'r'shower."

"Thanks," Morgan mumbled and hastened into the bathroom, directly to the last shower stall, the largest with the best water pressure; she and Dean had had to schedule their bathing routines after neither would relent the coveted stall in the mornings, occasionally racing each other down the hall, though if Dean was even a few feet behind her Morgan didn't bother, he was freakishly fast.

The water was refreshing, cleansing and unsettling as she stood under the spout letting her body relax. Every muscle was tight, some painfully. Cas may have healed her, but it wasn't injuries she was feeling, more like she'd been holding on for dear life and suddenly been told she could let go. The strain under her skin was uncomfortable, but slowly subsided a bit under the warm water.

"Morgan?" Dean's voice made her jump.

"Yeah?" she called back, trying to hide her deep breaths.

"I'm sorry I snapped," he said, "There's just always somethin' y'know?"

"Yeah," she said, wishing he would leave the bathroom, "don't worry about it, Dean."

"Doin' okay?" he asked, "Been in there a while."

"Yeah, I'm fine," she forced the frustration out of her voice.

"What'd y'want t'eat?" he asked.

"Whatever's fine," Morgan answered quickly.

"Okay, see y'in a minute," Dean's voice faded as he left and Morgan sighed, dipping her head back into the stream.

* * *

Bryan had heard the shower running for a while, hoping he could catch Morgan as she left the bathroom, but caught Dean's eyes as he walked into the hall. The older man nodded at him and leaned in Bryan's bedroom doorway, smirking thoughtfully at the young man sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Always somethin'," Dean sighed.

"I'm not s'posed t'ask," Bryan said.

"Yeah don't," Dean shook his head, "Garth needs some space."

"And Morgan?" Bryan asked.

Dean let his head hang a moment before answering, "She'll be fine."

Bryan nodded, though wasn't convinced. The fire in her green eyes had seemed dimmer in the brief moment he'd seen her since her return, but thought he was probably overthinking it.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

"Me?" Bryan scoffed lightly, "Yeah, I'm fine. You?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean nodded, "Gonna make some food. Hungry f'r'anything?"

"Whatever's good," Bryan shrugged and Dean left the doorway.

The shower finally shut off and Bryan stood from his bed, tentatively approaching his doorway, waiting for Morgan to emerge from the bathroom. She finally did, wearing gray sweatpants and a blue tank top without a bra, running her fingers through her long, damp hair. He smiled a little when he caught her eye, sighing internally with relief when she grinned and walked towards him.

"Hey," Bryan said softly, "feel better?"

"Yeah," Morgan answered quietly, "a bit. How are you?"

"Good, now that you're here," he grinned.

"It's good to be back," she sighed.

"You, uh, doin' okay?" he asked gently.

"Yeah," Morgan furrowed her brow and shook her head, "I'm fine."

"Sure?" Bryan pried.

"I'm fine," she said firmly.

"Okay," he nodded, "just, I'm here, y'know, if y'need t'talk."

"Yeah," she smirked, "thanks."

"I'm really, really sorry," Bryan said, "before you, y'know, what I said 'n-"

"Bryan it's fine," Morgan shook her head.

"No, it's not, I-" he tried, but was quickly stopped.

"Yes, it is," she snapped, but took a deep breath spoke calmly, "It's fine, Bryan, really. I'm, uh, gonna get some food 'r somethin'."

Morgan flashed her green eyes at him before walking briskly towards her bedroom. Her gaze was definitely missing its usual brightness and Bryan felt a pang in his stomach watching her move slower, her shoulders lower than she normally held herself. He knew he couldn't expect her to bounce back from the ordeal she'd just gone through, but hoped he'd soon see the smile that always took his breath away.

* * *

Morgan bit her lips on the residual anger she knew was unnecessary. She didn't know why Bryan trying to apologize again made her fume, but it did. She just wanted to be left alone, she was fine and wished everyone would stop trying to get her to talk about it. There wasn't anything to talk about, it was over and now they had to figure out who was left, which enemies they had to concern themselves with, what pieces were still in play.

"Hey," Dean stuck his head out of the kitchen as she reached her bedroom, "How's pizza sound?"

"Yeah, fine," she nodded, pushing her door open.

"Morgan?"

"Yeah, Dean?" she sighed.

"Just makin' sure y'r'okay, kid," he said gently.

"Fine, thank you," she forced a smile and closed herself in her bedroom before he could continue.

Morgan tossed her dirty, bloody clothes in the corner and sat on her bed, gazing around her room. A place once so familiar felt incredibly distant all of a sudden, she should be elated, but her feelings fell short of expectations. Dagon, Phelan and the Betas' faces kept floating into the forefront of her mind, their laughter echoing in her ears. A soft knock on her door interrupted the swarm of intrusive thoughts.

"Hey," Sam grinned a little as he entered, shutting the door behind himself, "You, uh, wanna eat somethin'?"

"I'm okay," she shook her head, she was hungry, but didn't feel like eating.

"Maybe just a little?" Sam tried.

"I'm fine, really," Morgan bit her words out, wondering how many times she'd have to say them.

"I wouldn't be," Sam said and she inclined her head at him, "I've been kidnapped, held hostage, tortured, and every time it was hard comin' back at first."

"Yeah?" her question was a whisper of desperation.

"Yeah," he nodded, sitting next to her on the bed, "I was scared, had nightmares, flashbacks, and I was so goddamn angry I couldn't stand it."

"Yeah," Morgan nodded, accepting the arm Sam put around her, letting him pull her into his side.

"It goes away," he assured her, "just give it time."

"Okay," she said quietly, hoping he was right.

"Sure y'don't wanna eat somethin'?" he smirked.

"Maybe just a little," she shrugged, grinning when he gave her an encouraging shake.

"I missed you so much, Sweetie," Sam kissed the top of her head before they stood to leave.

"I love you Sam," Morgan said quietly, holding onto him for a moment.

"I love you, too, Morgan," he squeezed her tightly.

He held the door for her and they walked into the kitchen together. Dean had set chips and salsa on the table while the smell of baking pizza wafted from the oven. Sam grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and handed Morgan a soda, which she stared at a moment before returning it to the shelf and grabbing a bottle of beer.

"Woah, uh," Sam chuckled uncomfortably, "What'cha doin'?"

"Just wanna take the edge off," Morgan looked from Sam to Dean with a blank expression.

Dean was clearly about to refuse, but sighed and shrugged, "We're not makin' it a habit."

Morgan nodded as the cap popped off her bottle and she took a long gulp of the bitter liquid, letting her body warm from the alcohol entering her system.

Claire's eyes widened as she walked in on the scene, though a look from Dean made her bite her lips on whatever words were about to escape, evidently knowing better than to ask for her own. Bryan looked equally as surprised when he entered behind the blonde, though not nearly as incredulous. Morgan just took another sip of her beer as she sat in front of the chip bowl.

Cas joined them a few moments later, Morgan found his constant focus on her uncomfortable and, after another minute, set her eyes on his challengingly.

"What's up, Cas?" she asked a bit gruffly, finishing with another swig of her beer.

"Morgan," the angel cleared his throat and stepped towards her, "I was wondering if you have plans to scry Phelan, I can understand if Dagon is a bit intimidating-"

"Cas!" Dean shouted.

"Dean," Morgan tried as the angel turned at her brother in confusion.

"We just got back!" Dean growled, "Can you give her a freakin' minute man?"

"It has been several minutes," Cas said matter-of-factly and Sam had to wedge in front of his brother to hold Dean back from his best friend.

"Dean, relax," Sam pushed him forcefully and turned on the angel, "and Cas, shut up."

"Soon," Morgan answered the original inquiry after they'd settled, "Sooner the better, right?"

"No," Dean shook his head, "You need a break."

"That's smart," she scoffed, "just give 'em all the time in the world without any idea what they're doin' or who's even alive."

"Morgan," Dean's tone was equal parts concerned and warning, "you need to rest."

She expelled a hard, bitter laugh, "I'm sure that's exactly what Dagon's doing."

"You are not Dagon," he growled, "We will figure this out, but right now, I want you eating, relaxing and not thinking about,  _this_."

"Wow, Dean," she rolled her eyes, continuing at the raised eyebrow he challenged her with, "I just never expected this level of stupidity outta you."

This time Sam held his brother back from approaching on their sister.

"Excuse me?" Dean barked over Sam's shoulder, "Get off me Sam!"

"Stop!" Sam yelled, shoving Dean towards the refrigerator and rounding on Morgan, " _You_  cool it, we are only trying to help you, please see that."

Morgan bit her lips and lowered her gaze, thankful when the oven timer chimed at the same moment.

They ate quickly and in silence, dispersing to their rooms for much needed rest immediately following the meal. Dean hardly looked at Morgan after the comment she'd made and she tried to fight the feeling of guilt swirling in her gut, convinced he was being stupid. She should scry them, she should've the moment her hands were free and she was once again in possession of her backpack. They already had hours separating the fight in the barn, Morgan could scarcely imagine what could've happened, but she didn't need to guess. Resolving to scry the villains when she was again alone in her room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continued support! I love love love your comments! They always put a smile on my face and I reread them all the time when I need a pick me up ;)  
> I'm glad everyone is good with the realism of Morgan's emotions, I just write 'em how I see 'em and this is where she's at right now, but hopefully we'll see some improvement in that soon. I'm gonna warn for spanking on this one, you'll see why, though I'm starting to wonder if warnings are really necessary, I mean, we're on the third installment of this series, pretty sure most of you know what to expect of me by now- like douchey cliff-hangers ;)

Bryan's only focus during the altercation in the kitchen had been to shield Claire from Sam and Dean pushing at each other, Morgan seemed perfectly content at the table watching her brothers wrestle. He'd never seen her with such a blank expression, almost heartless when she'd sneered at Dean. Bryan was terrified to think what had happened to her, what'd she'd had to endure, not only physically, but emotionally. Clearly, all of it had taken a toll.

Claire, however, seemed to continue to want to involve herself and Bryan simply didn't want to deal with the repercussions, even if they weren't his own. He loved Claire like a sister, after the time they'd spent together, when his wounds were healing, alone in the bunker, obsessing over the vampire case together, he'd never met anyone so much like himself. They'd become instant friends with the same goal in mind, become the best hunters in the world. Considering they were learning from the best it seemed an easy jump, eventually.

"Hey," the blonde knocked on his mostly open door.

"Hey," Bryan tossed his phone aside, having found very little helpful information on Princes of Hell.

"So, Morgan," Claire said, walking into his room and shutting the door behind her.

"Yeah," he scoffed lightly, "She's pretty banged up."

"She's a mess," Claire corrected.

"She'll be fine," Bryan narrowed his eyes warningly, but Claire kicked his desk chair around and straddled it in front of him.

"You didn't think it was at all weird that she called Dean,  _Dean_ , stupid?" she asked incredulously, "Or barely spoke to me in either of the opportunities she's had?  _Me_?!"

Claire was obviously hurt by Morgan's behavior, though Bryan had seen it before, the tension and anger, barely, but he remembered. His Dad had been missing, he wasn't sure how long, he was little and it was a while, but one day his grandfather had dragged his Dad through the front door. It was the first, and only, time Granpa had ever yelled at him when Bryan had bound at his father in excitement, but before he could reach him, the Elkins patriarch had barked at him to go sit down. Bryan had run off to his room crying, expecting someone to come comfort him, but no one did. He'd been maybe three-years-old, and it was the last time he'd expected comfort, not to say he'd never been comforted again, but if was the last time he'd been disappointed by the anticipation.

His Dad had been different after that, but he'd eventually gone back to normal, but it hadn't been fun getting there.

"She was just kidnapped by a Prince of Hell," Bryan reminded her, "we don't know what Dagon did t'her. She was a mess comin' outta those woods, but somehow she escaped. I wanna know as bad as you do, but right now we gotta wait. She needs t'relax, like Dean said. She's agitated right now, can't blame her, she needs t'rest."

Claire sighed heavily, "I don't like it."

"Is what it is," Bryan shrugged, repeating his Dad's words that seemed to always apply.

"I hate you," Claire shook her head with a grin.

"Too bad my ego bruises easier than my ass," he smirked and they shared a brief laugh together.

Bryan wasn't proud of the moments he'd spent bent over the trunk of the Impala, but, admittedly, he'd earned them. Dean had pointed out the many flaws in their plan in only a matter of seconds, all of which Bryan had been more than aware of going into it, having been convinced by Claire's determination and Morgan's fear for her brothers. He'd felt better, relieved even, after the twentieth stripe crossed his upper thighs and Dean had threaded his belt back in the loops of his jeans. Definitely forgiven when the man's hand had patted his back and he'd heard the words, 'it's over, kid, we're good'. Bryan had known going into the badly constructed plan he was doing wrong and it somehow had made him feel better to pay for his error in judgement.

"So y'think she'll be back to, like, normal soon?" Claire asked.

"I don't know," Bryan shook his head, "I hope so."

* * *

Morgan laid on her bed staring at the ceiling, waiting for a knock on her door. Sam didn't disappoint as a soft rapping sounded and she called for him to enter.

"Hey," he said after shutting the door.

"Hey," she mumbled, her eyes still on the ceiling.

"Can we talk?" Sam asked.

"What else y'got t'say?" she sighed, sitting up against her headboard.

"That I hate seeing you hurt like this," he said impatiently, "that we'll do everything we can to help, but you owe Dean an apology."

"Sure," she smirked, "I'll get right on it."

"You know you're not there anymore, right?" Sam narrowed his eyes at her and Morgan shifted her gaze from him, feeling the bitterness inside subsiding into guilt.

"Yeah," Morgan nodded.

"So, try 'n keep the hostility in check, okay?" he raised his eyebrows questioningly, though there was little request in the order.

"Yeah," she agreed quietly, "I'm tired. Can you shut my light off on y'r'way out?"

Sam sighed sadly, "Sure, g'night, Morgan."

"Night, Sam," she rolled onto her side, keeping her eyes on the wall as the lights flicked off and her door shut with a soft click.

She hardly waited a moment after the rustling in the hallway faded before rolling out of bed and finding her backpack in the dark, fishing her crystals from an inside pocket. Morgan sat cross-legged on the cold tile floor and organized the stones in front of her, hardly noticing her lack of excitement. She'd had her magic held from her and yet hadn't been jumping at the chance to use it since being freed of the bonds.

Dagon was intimidating. Scrying the Prince of Hell could prove a very bad idea, if Dagon found her spirit extension the demon could potentially pull her from herself, trapping the witch outside her body. Morgan reminded herself it wasn't fear keeping her from scrying Dagon, but simply the knowledge of how stupid it could prove to be, as she set her focus on Phelan and mumbled the familiar incantation.

Warmth filled her as the crystals shimmered, pulling her into the session and away from her dark bedroom. Her vision stayed dark, though a rustling of leaves tore her attention upwards at the silhouettes of mostly bare branches blowing in the wind, their dead appendages that hadn't fallen swayed gently against the starry sky. Morgan turned her gaze around, trying to find Phelan or at least a landmark to give her an idea where she was. Her sight settled on a flickering light, almost invisible if she hadn't been staring curiously at an unexpected, and clearly unnatural, wall of flourishing plants.

The greenery seemed to be pulsing gently with light, but as Morgan grew closer she found her body growing cold and quickly retracted. She knew those plants, the smell hit just as the chill soaked through her, Angelica and Dill. An angry heat replaced the uncertain cold within the young witch, knowing Phelan was behind the massive wall of vines. He must have employed a witch, he couldn't have managed to grow such a huge patch over a cave entrance in the bare of winter otherwise and certainly the werewolf wouldn't have known such an effective deterrent without assistance. Morgan considered how she could possibly penetrate the barrier, but in a brief moment it was like ice water had showered her as her name was growled angrily in the near distance.

Her bedroom was bright and she was shaking on her feet, supported by her brother's firm grip on her upper arms, hardly comprehending the words he was shouting as her focus was forced back to the room.

"Tell me?!" Dean growled, shaking Morgan a little roughly.

"What?!" she yelled, trying to pull out of his grasp and succeeding exactly none.

"What the  _hell_  were you doing?!" Dean was angry, definitely at the top of his chart, and Morgan wished he would release her arms, feeling his thumbs pressing hard into her soft skin.

"Let go'a me!" Morgan twisted away from him as hard as she could, but only managed to give Dean a perfect shot at her backside and in an astoundingly quick second he'd rearranged his grip around her waist, lifting her off her feet against his side, "DON'T!"

She knew it was too late and, as she screamed her refusal, Dean's open palm crashed down on her pajama clad bottom.

"NO!" Morgan kicked her legs as much as she could, gaining nothing but several fast swats.

Desperation filled her chest, her heart was racing while she was helpless to the assault, hardly paying any attention to the warmth building in her behind as her mind was overcome with the realization she was trapped. Morgan forgot Dean, she forgot her bedroom, she only wanted to be free, needed to be free, she couldn't be trapped again.

Her mouth found the nearest spot of denim and reacted on pure instinct as she sunk her teeth into her brother's thigh.

Morgan hardly registered the door flying open as Dean howled and she scurried into the corner of her room as soon as he released his hold. Sam grabbed his brother's arm from advancing on their sister, pushing his long hair away from his wide, terrified eyes.

"What's going on?" he demanded of Dean.

"I came in t'check on her and she's in a trance over these fuckin' things!" Dean growled, ripping his arm from Sam as he kicked Morgan's crystals across the room and under her bed.

"Dean!" Sam barked.

"What?!" Dean challenged loudly, but followed Sam's eyes to the corner and his anger dissolved, "Morgan, I, are you, Sweetie-"

"Leave me alone," she mumbled into her knees, still curled into herself, wishing they would both go away.

"I shouldn't've-" he tried again.

"Go!" she cried.

Her brothers looked at each other before both shaking their heads and approaching on her slowly.

"No, Morgan," Sam said, "We're not gonna leave, and you're not alone."

"Please," she sniffled, burying her face in her arms and tensing as she felt them getting closer.

"Morgan," Sam spoke softly as he put his hand on her shoulder, letting her pull away, but a moment of sense broke through and Morgan fell into her brother's arms, sobbing as he brushed her hair back gently, "Shh, y'r'okay, Sweetie, y'r'home."

Her heartbeat had returned to normal and her eyes ran dry as she took a few deep breaths, forcing a grin at Sam, but dipped her head again when she met Dean's matching gaze.

"M'sorry, Dee," she mumbled, her breath hitching again.

"No, Morgan," Dean took her apology as an invitation and crouched on her other side from Sam, tenderly lifting her chin to look at him, " _I'm sorry,_  I wasn't thinking, that was the last reaction I should've had and I am so, so sorry."

She nodded at him, wiping her cheeks from the last tears and grinned when he pulled her head towards him and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Morgan felt herself start to calm as Dean pressed her into his chest and Sam's large hand rubbed up and down her back. She didn't even understand the emotions that had flooded her from the moment Dean yanked her from the scrying session, her bottom tingled uncomfortably and her gut swirled with guilt.

"Dean," she whispered, "are you, okay?"

"Me?" he scoffed lightly before glancing down at his thigh and smirking, "Oh, that? Yeah, I think I'll live. How are you?"

"Stupid," she sniffled.

"You?" Dean chuckled, "Y'r'about the furthest thing from it."

"You have a right t'be messed up right now, Morgan," Sam said, "But what were you tryin' t'do?"

"Find Phelan," she mumbled.

"Didn't look for Dagon did'ja?" Dean asked and Morgan was surprised he wasn't angry.

"No," she shook her head, "I started with him, 'n then you, y'know."

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "I lost my cool, kid. I'm sorry, really, I am."

"Me too," Morgan said, "I shouldn't've, I just, I need t'know where they are."

Sam and Dean nodded understandingly and the oldest continued, "I get it, I think you should take a break, but I get it. But couldn't you've talk t'us about this?" Morgan stared at him blankly and he rolled his eyes, silently conceding their earlier conversation would not have produced a compromise, "Okay, yeah, but this, doin' this alone. Isn't that dangerous?"

"Not really," she shrugged, "I didn't look in on Dagon 'cause, well, if  _she_  senses me  _that_  could be dangerous, but Phelan doesn't have magic, he'd've never known."

"And what'd y'find?" Sam asked.

"Nothin'," she sighed with defeat, "he's alive, but I don't know who else is with him, if any of 'em. He's hiding in a cave, but it's protected by Angelica and Dill. Guess he's not a complete idiot."

Dean furrowed his brow, "Why are we talkin' about Rugrats?"

"What?" Morgan's expression matched her oldest brothers and Sam chuckled shaking his head.

"Angelica and Dill the plants, Dean," he said, "They're witch deterrents, right?"

"Together it's pretty impossible to penetrate with magic," she nodded, appreciating one of her brothers had a clue, "He's got a wall of 'em, I couldn't see or hear anything."

"Look," Dean sighed after a few moments of silence, "How 'bout tomorrow we give Crowley 'n Rowena a call? See if they can help shed any light on what's goin' on."

"Yeah," Morgan agreed, "okay."

"Can you sleep?" Sam asked, "I'll stay with you if you want."

"I'm fine," she shook her head, insisting at their matching disbelief, "Really, guys, I'm fine."

"Y'r'not," Dean insisted, "and that's okay. You will be."

Morgan smiled a little at her brothers, hoping that was true.

* * *

Bryan breathed quietly outside the door. Sam may have ordered him back to his room before the tallest Winchester slipped into the raucous, but it had been quiet for several minutes. An occasional chuckle had set his mind more at ease. When he'd heard Morgan and Dean yelling, followed by the clear sounds of a spanking as she'd screamed in what sounded more like fear than pain, Bryan had reacted completely on instinct. Their yells had brought him to his doorway, her screeched ' _don't_ ' had his feet moving down the hall, sprinting as the first smack sounded.

Sam's door had flown open as Bryan was pounding towards Morgan's bedroom.

"Bryan, I got this," Sam growled with his hand on the door knob, "Go back to y'r'room."

"Then go!" Bryan begged, flinching as a series of hard swats echoed, but both their eyes widened when Dean let out a pained howl and Sam had shut the door quickly behind himself.

Bryan didn't move from outside her door, uncaring if Sam or Dean or both walked out and saw him. Morgan needed a lot of things at the moment, but an ass tanning from her oldest brother was not one of them.

They'd seemed to calm down quickly, he only caught pieces of their words at first and something had either spilled or broken on the tile floor before the room quieted. He wasn't sure if he was planning on confronting Dean or simply waiting to make sure another altercation didn't start, but when Morgan's bedroom door opened and both brothers walked out, he didn't have much of a choice.

"What're you doin'?" Dean growled once the door was shut.

"Got a little loud down here," Bryan responded dryly.

"Yeah, well, we're all good," Dean smirked, "So, how 'bout you get y'r'ass back t'bed."

"She needs help, y'know," Bryan scowled at the older man, "She needs good things right now, not-"

"Bryan," Dean growled warningly, "We got this, I know exactly what she needs."

"Not what it sounded like t'me," Bryan challenged, unsurprised when he found himself backed against the wall, Dean's face close to his with the man's fist grasping the front of his t-shirt.

"Dean," Sam hissed, interjecting between his brother and the young man, "stop, c'mon."

"Don't talk about shit you don't know, kid," Dean said, releasing Bryan and taking a couple steps backwards, "I screwed up in there, but that's between her 'n me. And guess what? We're fine. So knock off the prince charming act 'n go t'bed."

"I'll go," Bryan squared on Dean with a hard look, trying to push away the memories forcing their way into his thoughts, "but don't tell me I don't know what I'm talkin' about."

He and Dean stared each other down for a few moments, before the older man nodded and jerked his head down the hallway. Bryan hesitated a second, but turned on his heel and left for his room. He had nothing left to say and was afraid if he did the memories flooding his mind would flow out of his mouth.

Bryan hadn't seen his father for weeks, possibly months, he was so young, but he remembered when his Dad was finally brought home, he wasn't himself. Not for a while at least. He'd been agitated, mean even, saying things that made his Mom cry sometimes. She'd just quietly left the room to relieve her emotions, but Bryan could vividly remember confronting his father once, only once.

At less than four years old, he'd experienced a handful of spankings, but the one he'd gotten from his enraged father after the little boy began physically attacking him for making his Mom cry, that one was only out done by the whipping he'd recently received courtesy of Dean Winchester. Bryan could replay the entire scene in his head, not that he chose to, but, as he closed the door to his bedroom, he couldn't stop his thoughts from running back to that night nearly fifteen years prior.

Bryan could remember almost understanding his father while the man was raining down smacks on his tiny behind. He'd understood enough of what his father did and why he'd been gone, not to mention the lectures he'd endured from both his mother and grandfather about how everyone had to be very accommodating while his Dad got better. He remembered begging his father to stop, promising to be good, swearing he'd do anything if he would only stop. It hadn't been until his Mom had run into the kitchen, screaming at her husband, that he'd finally stilled his hand.

His father had tried to hug him, but he'd been ripped from his arms, Bryan remembered the crack in his Dad's voice as he apologized, following his Mom down the hallway as she carried the little boy into their bedroom and locked her husband outside. He remembered his bottom had been sore for quite a while after that, but the next day, after a long talk with his Mom, Bryan's Dad sat down and cried as he apologized for what happened. Bryan had never seen his Dad cry before then and he never saw it again, but it had somehow made him feel better when his father had admitted that sometimes, a lot of times, grown-ups screwed up.

As he laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling, though, Bryan didn't feel any type of contentment. His stomach twisted with concern and, while his body was aching with exhaustion, his thoughts wouldn't stop bouncing between strange memories of his father and the girl down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed getting to know Bryan a little more while we see Morgan struggle to find herself again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of being able to understand the dialogue, because let's face it I torture you enough trying to understand my dialogue, I've written a lot of Channing's words out when it wasn't clearly obvious what was being said by typing out how it sounded, so I just don't want anyone thinking I'm unfamiliar with how two-year-olds speak. I have a two-year-old best-friend's kid and when we go out to eat my best friend will go to the bathroom and this little girl turns her head both ways and looks at me, "Where's Mommy?" "Mommy's in the bathroom, she'll be right back." She stares blankly at me, turns her head both ways again before squaring me in the eye and again, "Where's Mommy?" I humor her a few times, but eventually my sarcastic side takes over, "Is this a language barrier thing or are you a goldfish?" to which my four-year-old godson next to me starts laughing like a maniac screaming, "EV's not a goldfish she's a girl!" Yes, she is buddy, thank God for that. Channing might be loosely based on some of my favorite children, but wouldn't you?
> 
> Okay back to our story lol
> 
> Thank you for your feedback and hope you enjoy this installment!

The barn was dark and smelled of rotting wood. Morgan’s blood ran cold as the demon’s yellow eyes flashed from the other side of the room, looming a bit closer every moment. Her wrists were painfully sore, yanking at the cuffs binding her to the chair, but, as Dagon was closing in, Morgan couldn’t fight her instincts to try and escape. The Prince of Hell became clear in the pale moonlight and laughed meanly at the young witch while pulling out a sharp knife, waving it slowly, menacingly in Morgan’s face.

She was shaking with fear and, while knowing no one would hear her, no one would come, Morgan screamed, “NO!”

Strange sensations overtook her while she heard he name echoing around in the darkness, Dagon was gone, but her eyes blinked open in her bright bedroom, both brothers staring down with concern from either side of her bed.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

Morgan nodded in response, not trusting her voice to stop from cracking any words she’d attempt.

“Nightmare?” Sam’s expression was full of sympathy and Morgan nodded again, allowing him to gather her in his arms, but she managed to hold in the sobs that were trying to escape, it hurt her chest, but she didn’t want to cry anymore.

“I’m okay,” Morgan finally managed after a few deep breaths, “What’re you two doin’ in here?”

“We’ve been checkin’ on you,” Dean admitted immediately.

“You looked like you wanted t’wake up,” Sam grinned.

“Thanks,” Morgan agreed, “I did.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Dean asked.

“Not really,” she shook her head.

“Maybe you should,” Sam suggested gently, but she just shook her head more adamantly.

“How ‘bout some breakfast?” Dean asked, “I mean I think it’s like one in the afternoon, but we’ve got plenty of bacon.”

“Bacon sounds great,” she forced a small smile and they thankfully both understood it as a request to leave.

“We’ll see you in there,” Sam said before shutting the door on their exit.

Morgan took several more, very deep breaths, calming herself from the shaking she felt in her hands, noticing a twinge of pain in her healed wrists. It had only been a dream, a terrible dream. Right?

She pushed herself out of bed by force and changed into clean jeans and a _Metallica_ t-shirt, but her boots were nowhere to be found and Morgan left for the kitchen with just her socks on her feet.

“Morning,” Dean smiled when she walked in and Morgan spied the tops of her boots’ shafts sticking out of the industrial sink.

“You took my boots,” she joked.

“Figured I’d wash ‘em up for ya,” Dean shrugged, cracking eggs into a bowl, “There’s some coffee.”

“Thanks,” Morgan turned to the carafe and froze, almost angry at herself for somehow not noticing Garth at the table, staring into his own mug of hot coffee, but, when he looked up at her with sad blue eyes and a forced smile, she stumbled over a greeting, “Hey, Garth, uh, how, uh, mornin’.”

“Good morning, Morgan,” he nodded, “I’ve been better.”

“I’m, uh,” she glanced at Dean, silently asking if she should say something and Dean offered a curt nod in response, “I’m really sorry, I don’t even know what t’say.”

“Thank you,” Garth nodded, “I don’t either.”

“Ora!” a squeaky voice sliced through the quiet kitchen and Morgan felt a weight hit her leg, glad she hadn’t started to pour any coffee yet as she found Channing directly below her, latched onto her knee.

“Hey buddy,” she smiled and looked up at Garth, “Ora?”

“Dora,” Garth corrected, “Dora the Expolorer, it’s a kid’s show, I keep correcting him, but he’s y’know, two.”

“It’s fine,” Morgan laughed, lifting the bouncing werewolf into her arms for a tight hug and smiled genuinely at him, his innocent eyes glistening at her without the understanding he’d lost his mother, “Why Dora, huh?”

“I’m gathering it has somethin’ t’do with your ability to speak with animals,” Garth shrugged, “and the backpack.”

“Guess I’m Ora, then,” she said to Channing and he nodded happily, Morgan felt tears sting her eyes as she considered the carefree toddler in her arms against his miserable father at the kitchen table.

“How y’doin’, Ora?” Sam smirked, pulling her head towards him for a kiss on her hair and ruffled Channing’s before taking a beer from the refrigerator.

“What’s his name?” Morgan asked Channing as she jerked her head at Sam.

“Am!” Channing giggled, “Am I am!”

“Readin’ a little Dr. Seuss?” Dean asked.

“Bess read ‘em to him,” Garth said quietly, almost to himself, and the room went silent, even Channing seemed to understand the sullen mood and dipped his head in Morgan’s chest.

The awkward moment was broken as Bryan and Claire approached the doorway, their conversation halting with their feet as they took in the tension.

“Mornin’,” Dean seemed appreciative of the distraction, “bacon ‘n eggs comin’ up, coffee’s hot.”

“Awesome,” Claire smiled, going for the coffee pot.

“Thank you,” Bryan said and took a few steps towards Morgan and Channing, “Hey.”

“Hey,” she smiled and looked at Channing, “Remember this guy? What’s his name?”

Channing looked lost and buried his face in Morgan’s neck.

“It’s okay,” Bryan chuckled, “You only drove my car.”

Channing’s eyes widened as his head popped up, “Vroom!”

“Yup,” Bryan smiled.

“Vroom!” Channing yelled, pointing a chubby finger at Dean by the stove.

“That’s right,” Dean nodded, “You ‘n me we’re flyin’, right?”

Channing giggled and nodded, “Mommy.”

Dean’s face fell, but he recovered quickly with a forced grin and nodded slowly at the toddler, “Yeah, Mommy was there too.”

“Where’s Mommy?” Channing asked Morgan and she felt her heart break, blinking quickly on the tears filling her eyes.

The sound of a chair scraping the floor stole her attention momentarily from the little boy in her arms and they watched Garth storm out of the kitchen. Morgan looked at Dean, who looked at Sam, who looked back at his brother and both of them sighed.

“Give him a minute,” Dean said and they all nodded in agreement.

“Hey, buddy,” Morgan smiled at Channing, knowing tears were rolling down her cheeks, “Want some juice?”

“Why you crying?” he asked, patting her cheeks with his little hands.

“Because I’m sad,” she admitted.

“Where’s Daddy?” Channing asked.

“He’ll be back,” Morgan promised.

“Where’s Mommy?” Channing’s question stabbed her heart again and Morgan turned to Sam for help.

“C’mere, bud,” Sam held out his arms and Channing didn’t hesitate in jumping into them, “Wanna find another show on my TV?”

“No,” Channing shook his head.

“What’d y’wanna do then?” Sam smirked.

“Play,” the little boy said simply.

“Okay,” Sam nodded curtly and turned to Dean, “Let me know when breakfast is ready.”

“Sure thing, Mary Poppins,” Dean grinned and Sam offered him a rude hand gesture behind Channing’s back before leaving with the toddler.

“Can, uh,” Claire broke the silence and got Dean’s attention, “can we ask?”

Dean sighed, but his expression wasn’t hard, “Bess was killed by some of her cousins in the Maw, Garth was out with Channing and only barely got away when they came back, but Bess was already gone.”

“Shit,” Claire remarked quietly.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, turning his attention back to making breakfast.

* * *

Bryan knew the look in Garth’s eyes, the hollow sadness was chillingly familiar, he’d seen it every time he’d looked at his Mom after his Dad had died. A piece of her had been missing and now Garth had to suffer that pain, losing the woman who’d saved him, who he loved more than anything, constantly reminded of her by the son she left behind. Bryan remembered how his mother sometimes couldn’t look at him, her face would break as she turned away. Being his father’s clone had always been a compliment, until he’d died, and for weeks, months even, Bryan’s own Mom couldn’t meet his eyes without dissolving into tears.

At least he’d understood, he’d been almost eleven when his father died, and death was not a foreign concept in their household, unlike the little werewolf who wasn’t capable of grasping the meaning, relentlessly wondering where his mother was.  Bryan’s heart hurt for Channing as the toddler had stared innocently at Morgan with his repeated question, she’d looked equally as distraught as Bryan had felt, turning to Sam with tearful eyes.

Bryan hadn’t needed to ask, everyone’s emotions spoke for themselves, but Claire seemed to want the clarification and Dean explained briefly how Bess had died, at the hands of her own family.

“Shit,” the blonde whispered.

“Yeah,” Dean turned back to the stove, flipping bacon in the sizzling pan.

“Dean?” Bryan took a few steps around the island, making sure he had the oldest Winchester’s attention, his stomach turning a bit with memories of their last conversation, “Is there anything I can do?”

“I pretty well got it covered,” Dean shrugged at the cooking eggs and bacon.

“No,” Bryan shook his head, “I meant, weapons t’clean ‘r somethin’, I just need somethin’ t’do.”

“Sure, kid,” Dean nodded, his expression held no resentment from the night before, “I think the bag’s still in the trunk. Eat first though.”

“I’ll just grab it, now,” Bryan said as he backtracked from the kitchen, “then I can start right after breakfast.”

“Hell’a some time management skills y’got there,” Dean scoffed lightly and Bryan smirked as he turned down the hallway towards the garage.

He found himself surprised and saddened as he hoped Morgan wouldn’t follow him, wondering why that wish crossed his mind while he walked through the open room. She just looked so lost and distraught, Bryan didn’t know what to say or how to help, realistically knowing he couldn’t. Feeling useless was uncomfortable for him, Bryan didn’t like not being able to fix something, but Morgan wasn’t a thing, she was a beautiful girl whose damage he didn’t even understand. How could he possibly help?

He sighed, entering the brightly lit garage. Bryan had had the opportunity to take a tour with Dean as his guide and was possibly more enthused about the tools and equipment than the older man, and, when Dean had pointed out the motorcycles, the young man’s knees had nearly given out.

“Is that a thirty-seven Indian Junior Scout?” Bryan had gasped at the gorgeous red bike.

“Thirty-eight,” Dean had corrected with a smile, “Belonged t’Dorothy Baum.”

“Friend’a yours?” Bryan questioned the way Dean said the name like the young man should recognize it.

“We helped her out with the Wicked Witch a while back,” he’d shrugged nonchalantly, “an’ get back t’Oz.”

Bryan had just stared blankly at Dean until the older man laughed and continued with an explanation of how Dorothy and the Wicked Witch had been magically trapped in their storage room for over 70 years until the bottle they were liquified in smashed and both were released.

It seemed farfetched, though he had to remember the Winchesters had no reason to make up stories considering the repertoire of tales they had, not to mention the change in the teller’s demeanor. Dean had looked saddened as he continued and gave very little detail on the situation, but it sounded like Dorothy, and this Charlie chick, were both badasses. He hadn’t asked about Charlie, the look in Dean’s eyes when he’d said her name was enough for Bryan to know she was a painful topic.

He glanced at the motorcycle while making his way around the Impala and lifting the trunk lid that hadn’t been completely latched, pulling out both heavy duffel bags of weapons and slung them over his shoulders. His stomach growled with hunger, but Bryan wasn’t looking forward to walking back in that kitchen. He felt useless and out of place. Maybe Dean wasn’t still upset from the night before, but Bryan had a hard time looking at the man after what he’d heard. It wasn’t that he had a problem with the way Morgan’s brothers, her guardians, chose to discipline her, but simply that there was nothing she could have done to warrant Dean’s response. He seemed to know that, and Morgan seemed okay, but Bryan was plagued with the same feeling of hopelessness he’d had since she’d been kidnapped.

He walked slowly through the hallways, stopping to look down each corridor he passed, more from interest in delaying his progress than in what was actually down any of the halls. He couldn’t protect her and it was stupid to even think about defending her from Sam and Dean, Bryan knew they would give their lives for her before anyone else would have a chance. He didn’t belong in the bunker, there was no where he fit into the equation of the Winchester household and Bryan couldn’t fight the nagging feeling he had to leave.

Setting the bags on the map table, the smell of bacon caused a stabbing jolt in his stomach, begging to eat. He’d delayed long enough, but maintained his slow pace towards the kitchen.

“Wonderin’ where you got off to,” Dean commented as Bryan walked in and the older man slid the plate he was making across the island, “Eat.”

“Thank you,” Bryan said, taking his plate and sitting next to Claire at the table, across from Morgan and Sam, with Channing on his lap.

“Dean, how much more bacon we got?” Sam chuckled as Channing inhaled another piece he was offered.

“Dude,” Dean leveled his gaze on his brother, “I get he’s a meat eater, but the kid’s had four slices already.”

“He likes it,” Sam shrugged.

“It’s bacon,” Dean scoffed and looked at the little boy on his brother’s lap with raised eyebrows, his tone gently stern, “Channing, no more.”

Channing scowled at Dean and turned to Sam with an expectant gaze, but, when he was offered an apologetic shrug, the little boy scowled at Sam too. While Dean was fixing his own plate, however, Morgan broke one of her pieces of bacon in half and inconspicuously handed it to Channing’s greedy little hands, it was gobbled up in a moment. Bryan grinned and shook his head, but when his eyes caught Morgan’s they shared a genuine smile and his stomach twisted in all the wonderful ways it did when she looked at him like that. He’d missed that smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My job has taken over my life, I'm sorry, updates will be slowing down just warning you now :( I haven't even worked on my novel in over a week trying to stay up on this and my Guardian's of the Galaxy fic, and I'm afraid I'm failing at all of it, especially sleeping, I suck at sleeping. I don't mean these to be short, but I don't want you guys waiting for two weeks for an update. I'm sticking with this, I hope you do to, it's just a little longer to the finish line than anticipated.
> 
> Thank you, I had a few reach out to me on messages and reviews asking if I was alright, I know I normally don't go so long without updating, I really appreciate the concern, it's really nice to know you care =)
> 
> And as always, my reviewers- thank you for getting me through my days with a smile!
> 
> Bryan's getting angsty and Morgan's just a ball of fury and sass right now- I foresee all of this ending badly... just not yet.

"You gonna call Crowley?" Morgan asked Dean after he'd sat down at the end of the table with his breakfast, just starting as everyone else was finishing.

Bryan's stomach turned at the name, despite rationally knowing the King of Hell had given them a significant amount of help and seemed to have a soft spot for the young witch, he couldn't get passed the title. Crowley was a demon and his entire life Bryan had been taught demons had to be exorcised, sent back to Hell, working with them had never been a consideration by any Elkins.

"I can, but he picks up quicker f'r'you," Dean shrugged, shoving a forkful of eggs in his mouth.

"I don't have my phone," Morgan reminded, "Can I use yours?"

"Sure, we'll get'cha a new one soon," Dean tossed his cell phone on the table and Morgan pushed her chair away with a small screech.

"Hey, uh," Bryan couldn't help the request bursting from his lips, "could you wait? I'm just, I'm gonna head to the library 'n that guy pops in pretty quick, so, could y'give me a head start?"

"Sure," Morgan nodded, scooting closer to the table again.

Claire nudged Bryan gently under the table in what he understood as a silent thank you, she didn't like the demon any more than he did.

"Yeah and," Sam looked down at Channing before back at Morgan with a raised eyebrow, "Prob'ly not somebody he has to meet."

"Yeah, of course," Morgan shook her head, "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, just hopin' for some answers."

"We all are," Dean nodded.

Bryan excused himself a few moments later, washed his dishes on the side of the sink not occupying Morgan's leather boots and left for the library. He was unsurprised when Claire followed suit and met up with him halfway down the hall, though he assumed the blonde just dumped her dishes in the sink like she usually did.

"Where's y'r'head at?" she asked plainly.

"Not sure," Bryan admitted quietly, "I'm happy she's back, thrilled, of course, it's just, I just thought I'd feel, better, I don't know."

"I do," Claire sighed, "I mean I don't, I get it though, 'cause I don't know either, but I feel the same way, like she's still gone sort'a."

"Yeah," he nodded sadly, "I just wish I could help, make her feel better or something, but I can't do anything 'n she just looks so…"

"Sad," Claire finished when Bryan's sentence trailed away.

"Yeah," he agreed, "I just wish I could help, I just want her to be happy again."

"Me too," Claire said, squeezing Bryan's forearm gently for a moment before preceding him up the library stairs.

Very little discussion had needed to happen between them to decide the next course of lore they would be obsessively pouring over and both began scouring the room for every demon related book they could find. Bryan had already started researching all levels and kinds of satanic creatures, demon grades- lower level black-eyed bitches, Crossroads Demons (red-eyes) were a powerful bunch, though tended to use their brains over brawn and were known to be cunning, then there were the Princes of Hell. Very little seemed to be known about this breed of evil, Bryan had learned more listening to Crowley than the non-existent information on the internet or the few books Claire possessed.

He realized they should be with the Winchesters when the demon arrived for a typically brief conversation, but Bryan was sure he couldn't stomach the sight of Crowley in his current head state. He was such a confusing character anyway, every instinct Bryan had screamed at him to attack the demon, but Crowley had helped them so much his heart panged at the idea of hating the man. Overall, Bryan found Crowley's presence overwhelming to say the least.

Claire and him had decided to get a good night's sleep, though Bryan hadn't slept at all, before searching the library for any and all books related to Hell. After extracting nearly an entire shelf onto a table, Bryan sat down and pulled the first massive text towards himself.

"What'cha got?" Claire peered over as she dropped a stack of books next to his.

"Prob'ly nothin'," he shrugged, "just figured we should start goin' through these instead'a just takin' 'em off the shelves, I bet every book in here has at least one helpful piece of information."

Claire offered a conceding smirk and sat next to the young man, taking one of her choices and cracking it open.

Bryan didn't have to vocalize his plan to Claire, sure she was on his wave length in the beginnings of a plot to kill Dagon. At least he hoped she was, he'd do it alone, but he didn't want to. The blonde was more than just easy to hang out with, he felt safe and comfortable talking to her about things he'd hardly ever spoken of, because, while Claire never hid her feelings, she was always understanding. She'd had a rough childhood, more than just losing her father, having to see him as someone else. Bryan had asked her, when they were alone, how she could stand being around Castiel, sure he wouldn't be able to do it. Claire, however, had smiled strangely and said it had taken a long time, but she'd understood how much of a hero her Dad was and, while selfishly she wished she'd never lost him, he'd saved the world. Bryan had to agree it was hard to argue with that.

* * *

"Alright," Sam stood with Channing on his hip, "I'm gonna go check on Garth, wait till I get back t'call Crowley."

"Sure," Morgan nodded, taking her plate to the sink and turning on the water to start washing them.

"Hey, careful," Dean looked up from his nearly finished breakfast, "don't get y'r'boots wet."

"I know," she said, but pushed the faucet a little further towards the side with dirty dishes to avoid water splattering into the other basin.

"How y'doin'?" Dean asked as he slid his plate under her hands, leaning on the counter with a concerned expression.

"I'm fine," Morgan said nonchalantly, wishing he would stop asking.

"Okay," Dean nodded, "just checkin' y'know, I'm worried about y'kid."

"I know," she forced a grin, "thank you, I'm just, I'm fine, really."

"It's okay if y'r'not," he insisted.

"I know," Morgan felt frustration bubbling, "but I am, I wanna figure out what we gotta do from here."

"Business as usual, huh?" Dean smirked.

"I'm y'r'sister aren't I?" she matched his expression.

Dean chuckled, "Yeah, sure are," he playfully punched her shoulder and Morgan responded by flicking water in his face, "Oh, yeah?" he laughed and grabbed at her sides.

For a brief moment, she tensed at the sudden movement, but when her body naturally fell into a fit of giggles, Morgan's instant of fear vanished. This was her big brother, he was playing, he wasn't going to hurt her, he was never going to hurt her.

Sam walked into the kitchen as Morgan twisted away from Dean's attack, both catching their breath with a smile on their face, and their taller brother grinned at the scene.

"Channing 'n Garth are hangin' out 'n their room," Sam told them as he walked in and grabbed his beer from the table.

"Hey," Dean said as Cas walked in the kitchen, "Where the hell you been?"

"Making contact with heaven," Cas said simply, "informing my brothers and sisters of the current situation."

"We don't know the current situation," Morgan said a little bitterly.

"We have you back," Cas furrowed his brow, "that's a great development from less than a day ago, we will know more in time."

"No chance they had any helpful information?" Sam asked.

"Not in regards to this," Cas said.

"In regards to something else?" Dean baited.

Cas sighed and shook his head, "No."

"Crowley might'a heard somethin'," Morgan insisted.

"Wanna do the honors?" Dean held his phone out and she took it, swiping the screen until she found Crowley's name.

Ring. Ring. Ring. She found it extremely unusual until Morgan remembered she was calling from Dean's phone, not her own. Ring. "You have reached Crowley, King of Hell, I'm too busy torturing traitors to answer so leave a message, or don't, I might not even listen to it anyway."

"Crowley, it's me, I'm home," Morgan said before hitting the screen to end the call.

Dean put his phone back in his pocket and picked his beer off the counter, Morgan looked at it longingly.

"Can I get another one?" she asked.

"No," Dean said shortly.

"C'mon, Dean," Morgan didn't whine, but raised her eyebrow as he raised his and reasoned confidently, "I'm not drivin' I'm not gettin' drunk, I just wanna beer."

Dean sighed and looked at Sam, who shrugged, "Y'know we were both drinkin' in the room younger than her."

"Not often," Dean scoffed indignantly, "And you hardly drank at sixteen."

"Sometimes," Sam smirked, "an' she's almost seventeen."

"Dude it's December," Dean argued, "Her birthday's in the spring."

"Spring equinox," Sam corrected, "March twentieth's only a few months away. Plus I think she's earned more than just the one, don't you?"

"I don't need you 'n the other two thinkin' this is like a normal thing now," Dean sighed, opening the refrigerator and handing a cold bottle to Morgan.

"Thanks," she said.

"But don't keep tellin' me y'r'okay if y'need t'take the edge off," he didn't take his hand off the bottle's neck as he stared hard into her matching green eyes.

"Yeah," Morgan dipped her head and nodded admittingly, "I'm not, but I'm tryin' t'be."

"I know," Dean let go of the beer, "you're my sister aren'cha?"

She smiled and nodded before the cap flew off the bottle and into the trash can, taking a sip of the cold bitter liquid.

"My you Winchesters start young don't you," a gravelly voice stole their attention to the end of the table and Crowley raised a glass of scotch at them, "Not that I have any room to judge, practically had the stuff in my baby bottle," settling his eyes on Morgan, he smiled, "Hello, darling."

"Hi Crowley," she grinned, "Got my message?"

"I did," he nodded, "very glad to see you're back safe and sound. Lucky those wolves offered you a distraction for a few minutes."

"So, you know," Morgan pulled out the chair next to the demon and sat with her eyes trained on him.

"It's my job to know," Crowley smirked, sipping his scotch.

"So, what'd you know?" Morgan asked, sipping her beer.

The demon smiled, "Dagon is beside herself, little bitch even tried returning to Hell for help," he laughed meanly, "It was a fiery fight, but she left after realizing she couldn't scare anyone to her side. Looked a little worse for the wear too, definitely sustained some damage from the wolf attack."

"And them?" she asked, "I know Phelan's alive. What about the others?"

"I've heard," Crowley swirled his last sip of scotch in the glass, "that one of his blokes was killed, but he managed to flee with the rest."

"How?" Dean scoffed, "How could they possibly escape that crazy bitch?"

"I did," Morgan offered a bit haughtily.

"Because the wolves were distracting her," Dean said, "but if they were her main focus I'm just curious how they got outta there."

Morgan shrugged, silently agreeing he had a good point and swallowing the pang of anger at what felt like a slight towards her own skills, reasonably knowing that wasn't at all what Dean was thinking.

"I understand they each had an angel blade," Crowley offered, "Didn't kill Dagon, but certainly slowed her down."

"Which one died?" Morgan asked.

"I have no idea," Crowley took another sip of his drink, "And I honestly don't care."

"Always such a help," Dean smirked.

"I help," Crowley raised a challenging eyebrow at the oldest Winchester.

"You do," Morgan grinned at the demon, earning a smile from him.

"So, do you know where Dagon is?" Sam asked.

"Not in the slightest," Crowley shook his head a little, "Though I doubt Mother would mind looking in on her quickly."

"I can do it," Morgan scoffed indignantly.

Before her brothers had a chance to refute, Crowley shook his head, "No, she'll be expecting you, if she senses your presence, that royal pain in the ass will snatch your projected self and might pull your soul from your body."

"Nope," Sam said quickly, "that's not happening."

Morgan rolled her eyes, but found her beer stopped midair as she tried to sip and a chill trickled down her spine from Sam's icy stare.

"Promise me," he growled, "Promise me now you're not gonna try scrying Dagon."

"Yeah, okay," Morgan shook her head.

"Morgan," Sam's eyes glistened with concern and finally she remembered her brother had lived without his soul for a year, suddenly his terror was understandable.

"I promise, Sam," Morgan said honestly, "I won't."

"Better not," Dean said before gulping his beer and eyeing his sister questioningly.

"I won't," she insisted, returning her attention to the demon, "If Rowena would scry Dagon, that'd be great."

"She will," the King of Hell smirked knowingly.

"I don't care what they say, Crowley," Morgan waved her beer at her brothers and Cas, "you're a good guy by me."

"I am glad you're alright, dear," Crowley said, "when I hear anything else, I shall let you know."

"Thank you," she said honestly and in the next second she was staring at an empty chair, "Well," Morgan scoffed lightly and sipped her beer, "guess we still got jack."

"What?" Dean chuckled, "Y'thought we were gonna get a play by play highlight reel of what happened after you snuck outta there? It'll take a little time t'get more info, but we will."

"Yeah," Morgan sighed, "I just hate feelin' this useless."

"You're less useless than we are right now," Sam said and she couldn't help a small grin to match the one he offered.

* * *

Bryan almost scoffed audibly hearing Morgan accuse herself of being useless and if Sam and Dean thought they were even more so, well then Bryan was exceptionally useless.

Claire had asked him to sneak down the hall with her and listen in on the conversation in the kitchen, Bryan had said no, of course. But then she'd asked again, and again, and one more time very insistently, so Bryan gave in and followed her silently down the corridor. He couldn't disagree it wouldn't hurt to know anything Crowley might be able to offer, though disliking the way they were getting the information. Not that there was much to gather from the little they heard from the demon.

He tugged Claire's sleeve and jerked his head down the hall, leaving as quietly as he'd come hoping the blonde was behind him. She caught up a moment later and they stopped muffling their steps once they reached the open room.

"Hey," a gravelly voice made them turn to Castiel approaching from the hall, "I do not believe either of you was excluded from that conversation. Why were you spying?"

"We weren't-" Claire began, but Bryan gave her a sideways look.

"We were," Bryan said, returning his attention to Castiel, "I'm sorry, I just don't like Crowley, he makes my skin crawl."

"You need to get over it," the angel said simply and Bryan furrowed his brow at him, "Crowley may be a demon, but he has been extremely helpful to us."

"I know," Bryan growled, "He's still a demon though."

Castiel inclined his head and narrowed his icy blue eyes a little, "I am an angel, if I can step away from the black and white idea of right and wrong you most certainly can. And you'd better."

"What's that s'posed t'mean?" Bryan squared his shoulders, but his heart beat rapidly in his chest.

"That I understand you have a rather close relationship with Morgan," Castiel spoke plainly, "You do realize she is a witch?"

"Yes," Bryan bit out, his fists tightening instinctually at his sides.

"Yet you care for her?" Castiel's question was genuine, honestly confirming the young man's feelings for Morgan.

"Very much," Bryan nodded.

"So not all witches are evil," Castiel continued, "And while I will not make the same blanket statement for demons, there are some who are not completely devoid of their previous humanity."

Bryan nodded, dipping his gaze from the angel, feeling heat rise to his ears in his embarrassment to the entire moment.

"Please, uh," Bryan said a bit pleadingly to Castiel, "don't tell 'em we were listenin'."

"I see no reason to bother them with the information," Castiel shrugged indifferently, "You both could've come in to listen, considering your current obsession with demons and all Prince of Hell related topics I'd have thought you would have been happy at the opportunity for first hand knowledge."

Again, Bryan nodded, "You're right, we should've. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," Castiel stared at both of them hard, "We need to trust each other."

"Yes, sir," Bryan responded automatically, his ears burning hotter as he considered if 'sir' was the right term for the angel, and, thankfully, Castiel turned and walked back down the hallway.

"Well that was, weird," Claire scoffed.

"He's right," Bryan shrugged, walking up the stairs and hearing Claire follow on the steps.

"Well we could'a gone in there if you'd wanted to," she reminded.

"I never stopped you," he insisted, "I just, that guy gives me the chills."

"Yeah, well, get over it," Claire inclined her head in a fairly spot-on impression of the angel.

"I will," Bryan wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her or himself, "but you could'a gone in there without me."

Claire actually looked offended for a moment before her face relaxed and she shrugged hard, "You're right, next time, I won't sit around with your mopey ass. I'll go actually do my job."

"Good," Bryan managed the word without a flare of the anger he felt, not at Claire, at himself.

He was so angry, frustrated and guilt ridden he'd been afraid a simple glance at the demon would have thrown him into a blind fit. Castiel's words, however, reminded him he had to be stronger than those emotions in order to do his job. Not being able to stop the feelings made all of them worse, all Bryan could try to do was keep his face neutral and his tone even, succeeding more in outward appearance than finding inner calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS FOR READING!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am alive, just to alleviate any concerns to the contrary, I've simply lost myself in work recently. It's not a grand promotion, basically I have more work and thousand times more distractions, it's seriously amazing how many people will start talking to you even while seeing you're on a phone call... I am sorry for this delayed update, not only because I don't want you, my wonderful readers, to wait too long, but also because I am just sorry I haven't had time and wish I did. I'm sorry if this seems "piecey" but I've honestly been writing it for two weeks, mostly before bed, sometimes under the influence of alcohol, don't judge okay, my job has eaten my soul. BUT remember, any of you who are afraid my mood or job or life dictates these characters I swear that's not the case, I have this plotted out just little to no time currently to write it, but I'm not a character in this story, when I write them I just listen and watch- only in a little bit of a stalkery way...
> 
> Welcome new readers! And Thank you to my reviewers! You make my day every time I see a comment :) I get hung up on a lot so pretty much every review follows that and instantly makes my day better lol

Bryan was in the library, bent over a large book at a table with several, empty, energy drink cans around him when Morgan entered. He didn't look up as she slowly ascended the stairs, wishing he'd look at her and wondering why he wasn't, afraid she'd pushed him too far away. Morgan didn't feel the urge to run to him for comfort, but she wasn't feeling that urge towards her brothers either, though she didn't want to lose Bryan and was afraid she already had. Her heart, brain, soul, every bit of her was fighting inside, unsure what her true feelings even were anymore.

"Hey," Morgan said softly and Bryan looked up quickly.

"Hey," he smiled a little, pushing his chair back as he stood, "Sorry, I didn't hear you come up, I'm really into this."

"No worries," she shook her head, "They're settin' up a movie. Did you wanna join?"

"I, uh," Bryan tried to hide a grimace, but Morgan saw it clearly as his gaze flickered towards the massive volume, "I'm workin' on somethin', but thank you f'r'the invite."

Her heart sank and Morgan nodded slowly, "Okay," she peered at the open book on the table, but Bryan quickly tossed his notebook across the pages, "What're y'workin' on?"

"Nothin' much," he shook his head, "Nothin' I wanna bring up yet, not 'til I know."

"I could help," she offered, but Bryan was already shaking his head.

"Not with this," he insisted.

"Wow," Morgan scoffed and turned to leave the library, but a gentle hand on her arm turned her back towards the handsome young man.

"I'd love your help," he said earnestly, "but I'm researchin' everything I can on that bitch who took you. Even if you can handle it, I can't, I don't want to be worryin' the whole time about what you're thinkin', 'n how it's affecting you. I'm sorry, I know that's shitty, but I just-"

"Bryan," Morgan stopped his rambling and waited until his brown eyes were fixed on hers, "You're right, while I can handle some research, I don't want to right now. I can't scry Dagon, thinking more about her is just gonna make me angrier than I already am."

"Why, uh, I mean I'm not against it, just curious," Bryan stumbled a little, "but why can't you scry Dagon?"

Morgan scoffed lightly and rolled her eyes, "She's powerful, more powerful than me, if I focus my spirit on her, she might feel that presence, and could potentially tear my soul from my body."

"Nope," Bryan shook his head quickly.

"Yeah," she chuckled, "obviously. And, uh, well I looked in on Phelan."

"How is Balto?" Bryan smirked, but Morgan inclined her head in confusion and he sighed, "Your brothers would get it."

"Sure," she smiled, "I couldn't get a look at him, he's in a cave somewhere hidden behind Angelica and Dill."

"Rugrats?" it was Bryan's turn to incline his head and scrunch his eyebrows together.

"Plants," Morgan said simply, shaking her head slowly, "Seriously, what is, never mind. They're witch deterrents, a wall of them, and that asshole was behind it, along with three of his Betas. I just wish I knew who died."

"Is it dangerous to scry  _them_?" Bryan asked.

"No," Morgan shook her head, "just useless since I can't see anything."

"But if you scried all of them individually wouldn't there be one you'd see, nothing?" Bryan asked, quietly adding, "Like, y'know, Max, when," his words trailed off as Morgan nodded in understanding.

"You're right," she said, bring the conversation away from the sad memory of Asa Fox's death, "Let me get my stuff."

"Wait," Bryan said and Morgan turned at the top of the stairs, "Aren't you watchin' a movie?"

"Y'r'not," she shrugged.

"What're they gearin' up?" he asked with a conceding grin.

"Die Hard," Morgan said enticingly.

"Which one?" Bryan insisted, his smile growing.

"One, through Vengance," she couldn't help matching his expression as he neared her.

"That's a hell'uv an offer," he admitted, taking her hand and pulling her gently towards him, "but I gotta know," he raised an eyebrow and looked serious momentarily, "Is there popcorn?"

"Have you met my brother?" she giggled, leaning closer to his firm torso, remembering the warm comfort Bryan offered with a simple touch.

"In more situations than I'd liked to," he chuckled and brought his mouth down on hers tenderly for a few moments before pulling away, "but y'r'always worth it."

Her stomach twisted, she didn't deserve those words, but she forced her expression to stay and not reveal the sadness the intended compliment had caused.

"Hey, kids," Dean walked into the open room and both teenagers at the top of the library stairs turned to him, "Movie's startin'. Bryan, you joinin' us?"

Bryan glanced at Morgan and smiled before returning his attention to Dean, "Yes, sir, just gonna clean up real quick."

"Leave it," Dean shrugged, "Like y'r'not gonna go right back t'whatever you're obsessing over tomorrow."

Bryan chuckled lightly and nodded, gesturing for Morgan to go down the stairs ahead of him, she walked towards her brother, who jerked his head down the hall with a small grin.

"Grab a couple sodas would'ja?" Dean asked, clapping a hand on Bryan's shoulder and stopping the young man in his tracks.

Morgan sighed and tried to offer an apologetic grimace to Bryan, who looked like he'd swallowed a grenade, before turning and walking away down the hall.

* * *

Those lips were often on his mind, but when Bryan had the brief opportunities to kiss them, it was heaven. He was elated to find passion when he'd met his lips to hers, unsure how she'd react, but Bryan couldn't have hoped for better. He didn't need his hands all over her or hers him, he just needed to feel that fervor in how she kissed him back, and he had. It may have ended sooner than he'd liked, but the last thing Bryan wanted was to push her too fast, push her away.

Those lips and that kiss ran through his mind as Dean's hand squeezed on his shoulder and the older insisted his sister leave them. What the fuck had he done? Dean hadn't been in the room when he'd kissed Morgan, Bryan was sure of it. Right?

"What'cha workin' on, kid?" Dean asked, steering him back towards the library, suddenly Bryan wished it was about him kissing the man's sister.

"Just, lore, 'n stuff," Bryan thought hard as he was mostly pushed up the stairs and towards the table covered in books he'd been pouring through, "tryin' t'catch up, lot t'learn."

"Mmhmm," Dean raised an eyebrow at the young man as he let his shoulder go and pushed away the notebook over the open text with his other, "Huh, would'ja look at that," he smiked, "Demons."

"I'm just-" Bryan tried.

"Not just demons," Dean feigned shock as he plopped the large book his lap after scooting onto the table, "No, the big guys," he said lightheartedly while flipping a few pages, "Lilith, the first, the Knights and,  _shocking_ , the Princes of Hell, not that you'll find more in here than you will listenin' to a first hand account."

"I know," Bryan agreed, dipping his eyes to his feet, "I should've listened t'Crowley earlier-"

"Kid," Dean sighed, "If y'can't look at him without gettin' sick to y'r'stomach, trust me, I get it, I do, I still hate that limey sonuvabitch, but he's been, irreplaceably helpful on far more occasions than I'll admit to. A month ago, I wouldn't be offering the invitation, but now, now I'm insisting. You step up or I don't need you here, it's not a threat, I'm not mad at ya, really, and I see what y'r'doin' here," he gestured the book as he set it on the table behind him, "but you need to learn to use  _all_  the resources you've got, and, as much as I hate to say it, Crowley is one'a the best ones we have right now."

"I know," Bryan nodded, "Cas already reamed me about it."

"About what?" Dean furrowed his brow and Bryan realized the angel hadn't mentioned his and Claire's eavesdropping outside the kitchen.

"Just, y'know," Bryan shrugged, finding an appropriate version of the truth quickly, "he said the same thing, that we should'a been in there, I told Claire too, but y'know, she only wasn't 'cause I didn't want to."

"That's not entirely true," Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes, "Don't let her guilt trip you. And, wait, Cas, seriously, Castiel ripped into you?"

"I mean, yeah, kinda," he nodded, "Dude's scary if he wants t'be."

"He can be," Dean chuckled briefly before setting his serious eyes on Bryan, "I'm not tryin' t'be a dick here kid, and I know you just went through your own hell not that long ago, but Morgan's a mess right now 'n my priority is to get her better and kill those pieces of shit that are after her."

"That's what I want too," Bryan assured him.

"Good," Dean nodded, "I can't afford another emotional basket case in this joint."

"I get it," the young man laughed, "I'm done, promise."

"You in on this movie?" Dean jerked his head towards the stairs.

"I heard it was One, Two  _and_  Vengeance," Bryan joked as he led the way.

"I'm gonna make it to about the end credits of the first one," Dean chuckled.

Bryan and Dean walked down the hall towards Sam's room as the younger wished his promise hadn't been a lie. He'd have to step up, like Dean said, and learn to swallow his pride and hatred for the help it could sometimes provide, especially if his own plan was to work out, there would be no room for blind prejudice.

* * *

Morgan walked into Sam's room, deciding she'd check how many drinks were already in there before getting more, and rolled her eyes when she saw two beers and three sodas on the desk next to a large bowl of popcorn. Claire was reclined against the wall with her feet hanging over the bed and slapped the mattress for Morgan to join, which she did with a small grin, curling into the corner of Sam's bed and sharing the blanket with her best friend. Sam was flipping through the on-screen options with the remote and, while neither girl would speak up because he was very prideful of his technology skills, Claire and Morgan rolled their eyes at each other as he scrolled through the 'action' category instead of simply searching the film.

Bryan walked in with Dean behind him and the oldest quickly snagged the desk chair Sam was about to grab and flipped it around, straddling the backrest with a smirk.

"Jerk," Sam muttered, taking another few steps to grab a matching chair from the corner and plopping it loudly next to Dean.

Bryan looked lost for a moment with the only seat available being on the other side of Claire on Sam's bed, but a small jerk of both brothers' heads was enough invitation for Bryan to join the girls. Claire lifted the blanket in silent offering, but the young man shook his head, Morgan grinned, part of her wishing she and Claire had switched spots, but a larger part wishing she wasn't about to participate in a movie marathon. Bryan had been right about scrying the werewolves and now her mind was racing with the idea.

 _Die Hard_  wasn't one of her favorite films, but Morgan watched Dean mouth the lines just before they were said on-screen and it made her smile to see him enjoying himself. Half way through the first movie, the popcorn had been depleted to broken pieces and kernels mixed with salt at the bottom and Dean left to make more, insisting he'd seen the movie enough and they didn't need to pause it, which no one argued.

A few times, she thought she saw Bryan glancing at her, but, every time Morgan turned her gaze towards him, he was focused on the television.

"Anybody need a drink?" Sam asked after swallowing the last sip of his beer.

"I'll take a brewski," Morgan smirked, stifling a giggle at the narrowed eye glare she received from her brother, "Soda'd be great, thanks."

"Brat," Sam scoffed lightly as he pushed out of his chair.

"Bitch," Morgan mumbled after he left the room, earning a short laugh from Claire, but Bryan seemed indifferent, or at least unimpressed, by the exchange.

"Hey can we pause it?" Claire asked, throwing the blanket off, "I gotta pee."

"Sure," Bryan grabbed the remote off the desk and the intense scene halted on a rather awkward, yet hilarious, still of Bruce Willis.

"You know it's just a joke, right?" Morgan began after Claire left the room, "Dean's jerk, Sam's bitch 'n I'm brat. It's just like, sibling fun, y'know."

"Never had any," he shrugged, "but yeah, I get it."

"Hey, uh," Morgan dipped her gaze to the empty spot between them before slowly looking into his handsome, brown eyes, "I know I've been weird, no just listen," she shook her head as he opened his mouth to interject, "I honestly don't know where my head is, one minute I feel like me, the next I feel like a shell, but I want,  _I need_  you t'know, I, I still," her words trailed into a small smile, blinking her long eyelashes.

"Me too," he grinned, "Whenever, if ever, y'r'ready t'talk t'me about what happened, I'm here," he tipped her chin up with a gentle finger, leaning closer as Morgan shifted a few inches towards him, "My feelings have never changed, from the moment I saw you at that gas station, they've only gotten stronger."

"You were a bit of a dick at the gas station," she smirked, inching closer to his face.

"I was," he admitted with a small chuckle, "but it worked."

"Little bit," Morgan shrugged, her body shivering the moment his mouth landed on hers.

His tongue just grazing her lips before retracting, lips managing to be both hard and soft, Morgan felt herself melting at Bryan's touch. A momentary reprieve from the torment of emotions and thoughts, simply pleasure overtook as the handsome young man's kiss engulfed her senses.

"Sam are those cold?!" Claire's very loud question from the hallway split the two instantly, returning to their innocent positions.

"Jeezus, Claire, yeah they're cold," Sam sighed as he walked into his room, shaking his head as he set three sodas and two beer bottles on the desk, all of which he managed to carry with both massive hands.

"Thanks," she grinned and winked at Morgan and Bryan while grabbing a fresh can off the desk.

"You can think I'm stupid if y'want," Sam scoffed and nodded at his beer with his eyes locked on his sister, a moment later, the cap flew into the trash can, "Thanks, Brat."

"Anytime, Bitch," Morgan laughed and so did her brother, Bryan smiled.

"We ready f'r'the rest'a this movie?" Dean asked as he walked in with two, slightly smaller, bowls of popcorn, "I'm done sharin' with you snack thieves."

"Yeah," Claire rolled her eyes as she took one of the bowls from him, "we're the gluttons around here."

"Shut up," Dean joked, retaking his seat and setting his and Sam's bowl on the desk, exchanging it for his beer, Morgan didn't even allow him an opportunity to find a bottle opener before the cap zoomed into the trash bin, "Thanks, Sweetie."

"Sure, Dean," she returned her brother's smile and turned her attention back on the movie as Sam hit the play button on the remote.

* * *

Despite Dean's insistence he wouldn't make it through the first movie, both girls were asleep on each other half way through the second as the brothers and Bryan continued enjoying the film. None of them were keen on starting the third, however, and, as the credits rolled, they decided to call it a night.

"You take Morgan," Dean jerked his head at the bed with his eyes on Sam, "I'll grab Claire."

"I got Claire," Bryan said, sliding his arms behind the blonde's back and knees before they could argue.

Dean shrugged and tossed the blanket off his sister, carefully picking her up off the bed.

"Guess I'm just gonna clean up the mess y'all left in my room," Sam said, setting the cans and bottles in the empty popcorn bowl.

"Sorry, Sam, I can-" Bryan began, but Dean cut him off.

"He's jokin', kid," Dean shook his head, "Take Goldilocks t'bed, we'll see y'in the mornin'."

Bryan chuckled lightly, but rolled his eyes as he turned away from the brothers, carefully maneuvering Claire into the hallway and had to do a bit of a balancing act to open her door, but the young woman didn't stir. Carefully, he laid her in her bed, thankful she never bothered to make it and easily pulled the blankets from the foot of the bed up to her shoulders. Bryan brushed his friend's hair out of her face before leaving the room, closing the door silently.

The night had certainly not turned into what he was expecting. Yes, he'd been hoping for a moment alone with Morgan since she'd returned, but, as the hours had dragged on, Bryan had become nervous of her change in demeanor. It had been reassuring to hear her admit to the turmoil he'd been witnessing, but invigorating to know her feeling were still there, the passion in her kiss hadn't dimmed.

Somehow, all of it made him even more determined in his plan, knowing Morgan would hate him for it, at first, but once she understood his intentions were for her, for her family, she couldn't possibly hate him for that.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for holding out guys! I'm really sorry the updates have slowed down so much, but I'm still here, still trying =) Thanks for sticking with Morgan! SPN note: Holy crap I've never cried so much from a Supernatural episode as I have in the beginning of season 13, and I'm pretty sure I yelled "fuck you Dean" over several dozen times- was glad to see him finally be a little gentler with Jack at the end of the last episode. Though I had some accuracy issues with the latest shifter tale, but I think at this point the writers are getting a little lazy on the small stories focusing mostly on the overall. We'll see.
> 
> Continuing with Morgan's story… (apologies for any errors, I hardly proofread this because you wouldn't be getting it until tomorrow if I did) let's see what's going on in her head and what is Bryan up to…

 

His lips had felt almost normal, kissing Bryan had let Morgan forget for a brief moment the anger and frustration coursing through her, but when she woke in her room alone the pain was still there.

She took a deep breath and slid her legs off the bed, with the goal in the forefront of her mind to scry the Beta werewolves. It was perfectly safe, but, while Morgan had every intention of performing the spell regardless, she didn't want to keep the plan from her brothers, deciding it was better to at least give them the chance of agreeing. While pulling on her jeans, she decided talking to Sam alone first would be her best option.

Dean was in the kitchen with Garth and Channing when she walked in and flipped a mug over as she grabbed the pot of hot coffee. Morgan found it easier to smile at the little boy than his solemn father and settled her gaze on the smiling child after sweeping across the men, "Good morning."

"Mornin'," Dean and Garth said together, but Channing was already toddling his way towards the witch.

"Hey buddy," she smiled, setting the pot down and picking up the little boy as he raised his arms at her, "What's f'r'breakfast?"

"Bacon," he squealed happily.

"My favorite," Morgan couldn't help a short giggle, in a strange way his tiny innocence provided her with a bit of peace.

"Plenty of it," Dean commented, jerking his head at the plate of bacon on the counter.

"You like bacon, huh?" she raised an eyebrow at the little boy in her arms and he nodded eagerly, "Yeah, me too, I love bacon."

"I love mommy," Channing said simply and Morgan's grin faltered into an understanding smirk.

Garth kept his eyes down as he moved around them and disappeared down the hallway. Morgan turned sadly at her brother, but he shook his head in a silent gesture for her not to worry about the man's departure.

"Where's Sam?" Morgan asked, shifting Channing on one hip to carry her coffee to the counter before picking up a slice of bacon and handing it to the little boy.

"Library with Bryan," Dean said, "and that kid's had plenty already."

"Is Cas still here?" she wondered, having not seen him since Crowley's brief visit.

Dean scoffed, "Claire introduced him to Stranger Things yesterday."

"Oh he's done for at least a few hours," Morgan expelled a short laugh, popping a slice of crisp bacon in her mouth.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "if you think you feel useless, imagine how an angel with his wings clipped feels."

Morgan stared at him for a moment, realizing his statement wasn't intended to be hurtful, simply truthful, and she nodded slowly, fighting a pang of anger, "Good, he has a distraction."

"You should have one too," her brother suggested and Morgan rolled her eyes behind her coffee mug, "I'm serious, Brat, we're at a standstill right now. The best thing we can all do is focus on what we have control over, not what we don't."

"Yeah," Morgan agreed, hoping he'd stop talking and the look on her brother's face told her he knew that.

"I'm just sayin', kid," Dean smirked, "it wouldn't hurt to find a distraction."

"Yeah well," she handed Channing another slice of bacon and kept her focus on the tiny werewolf, "I've already watched Stranger Things. Hey, y'wanna go find Sam with me?" the little boy nodded eagerly as he chomped the fried pork belly and Morgan continued in feigned excitement, "C'mon let's go find him."

She heard her brother sigh as she grabbed her coffee mug and left the kitchen with Channing on her hip, simply happy to be rid of her eldest brother's conversation, not exactly thrilled to enter another with Sam. Voices echoed from the open room while Morgan and her little friend slowly approached, forcing a smile at Sam and Bryan as they looked up from the table they were working around.

"You guys start early, huh?" she scoffed lightly, taking each stair with caution, mindful of her coffee in her right hand and mostly the toddler shifting on her left hip.

"Ever think y'r'late?" Sam joked, taking a few steps towards the landing, "Put him down, he's got this, just keep your hand behind him in case."

Morgan stopped and looked at Channing, who had been wriggling more as soon as Sam was in eye-shot, and set the little boy down on the third step from the top, resting her hand behind his shoulders. Channing grabbed the dowel next to him and used each iron rod as a makeshift rail as he pulled himself up to each step with Morgan slowly moving behind him. As soon as he reached the landing, however, Channing launched himself into Sam's open arms and the man stood to his obnoxiously full height with the tiny werewolf clinging tight to him.

"What're you guys workin' on?" she asked, moving towards the table with her neck craning to see the contents spread across the surface.

"Just some research," Bryan stepped between her and the table quickly, blocking her view with a forced grin.

"Yeah?" she continued, undeterred by his obstruction, and simply shifted around him, "On what?"

"Morgan," Sam didn't snap, but he nearly did, "This really isn't stuff you want in on, okay, trust me, please."

"Why?" she asked.

"Why what?" Sam furrowed his brow, shifting Channing to his other hip.

"Why wouldn't I want in on it?" Morgan raised her an eyebrow with a bitter tone, "You know I trust you, but if it has anything to do with Dagon or Phelan I want in."

"There's nothing you can do right now," Sam began, obviously only taking a short moment to catch his breath before intending to continue, but his sister took advantage of the break.

"I can do a helluva lot more than you!" she snarled, startling even herself and Morgan was sure her face was as shocked as Sam's, afraid to even look at Bryan.

"Excuse me?" Sam said finally.

"I didn't-" Morgan stammered through frustration and mortification, "I meant, like, just let me help, goddamn it."

"Hey!" Sam barked, shifting his eyes towards Channing quickly and Morgan dipped her gaze apologetically.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"Look at me, Morgan," Sam demanded and she lifted her gaze to meet her eyes with his, narrow and intimidating, yet maintaining his warm understanding, "If there was anything to help with, I'd've asked you to join us. I'm just teachin' Bryan some lore about demons and Hell, this is all a little new t'him, I'm just gettin' him up to speed."

Morgan turned to Bryan, who shrugged honestly in defense of her brother's statement and she blushed with embarrassment while turning back on her brother, "I'm sorry, really, I'm just, everything is just," she stammered and simply shook her head as her words trailed away.

"I know," Sam nodded, taking a step forward and pulling his sister tightly to his side with his free arm, kissing the side of her head and offering a gentle, encouraging shake, "And we're gonna get 'em, all of them, but for now at least, you've gotta relax."

"I have relaxed," Morgan offered a bit defensively, "We watched those movies last night."

Sam scoffed lightly, shaking his head at Channing before looking back at his sister, "Good start, y'know Claire and Cas are watchin' Stranger Things."

"That's gotta be the fourth time she's watched it," Morgan rolled her eyes, "I, uh, actually wanted to talk to you, about an idea that kinda, came up."

"What's that?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

Morgan shifted her gaze to Bryan, who offered a tiny shrug, before turning to Sam again, "So, obviously I can't scry Dagon, hopefully Rowena will turn up something, but Crowley said one of the wolves died in their fight, right? So, what if I looked in on the other Betas, just, wait," she held up a hand when Sam opened his mouth to refuse, "listen, I'll either end up outside that cave or I won't see anything, but at least we'll know which ones are still alive."

Her brother furrowed his brow, obviously wanting to disagree, but rationally understanding Morgan's logic and how benign the idea was overall.

"We gotta talk to Dean about it," Sam said finally and she sighed, "Morgan, he's rational, mostly, I'm sure he'll understand your point."

"Hope so," she said, biting back a snarky comment about telling them being only a courtesy and she fully intended to scry the Beta werewolves regardless of her brothers' feelings.

"Y'gotta give him some credit," Sam smirked.

"Credit for what?" Dean asked as he walked up the library steps.

"That you're not gonna refuse an idea immediately without hearing the reasoning behind it," Morgan said.

"That doesn't sound like me," Dean scoffed, "What's the plan?"

"Scrying the Beta wolves," she paused, locking on the pair of matching green eyes staring hard at her, waiting for him to shake his head and ban the idea.

"Go on," he raised his eyebrows, "You said there was reasoning."

Morgan was a bit stunned and glanced at Sam, who shook his head with a grin, then returned her attention to Dean with determination in her small smile, "Crowley confirmed one of the Betas didn't make it outta the barn. If I scry all four of them I'm either gonna end up outside that cave or in a sea of darkness, but at least we'll know who's still on the board."

Dean nodded slowly before he spoke in a slow, deep voice, "And what if Dagon's with them?"

Morgan smirked sinisterly at the prospect, "Perfect."

"Excuse me?" Dean crossed his arms and Sam stood from his relaxed position leaning against the table.

"What?" Morgan shrugged, "I can't scry  _her_  because she could feel the energy focused on her, but if she's not my focus, simply on the screen, it would be next to impossible for her to notice me."

"Next to impossible," Dean repeated with the beginnings of a snarl, "So, basically our lives."

"Not possible, impossible," Morgan corrected quickly with an eyeroll, "She can't, I swear! And why would she be with them anyway? They just tried to kill each other, if Phelan is taking heavy precautions against me I can only imagine he's more than warded for Dagon."

"She has a point, Dean," Sam interjected, but dipped his gaze for a second at the hard glare their oldest brother shot his way, but Dean's eyes shifted like he was contemplating the idea.

"In and out, right?" Dean asked after a heavy sigh, "Just check to see who's breathin' and snap out of it."

"Uhh," she furrowed her brow in confusion, hardly able to believe he'd given in so easily, "Yeah, of course. But, why are-"

"Y'r'gonna do it even if I say no," Dean interrupted and Morgan felt heat creeping to her cheeks, offering a grimace of admittance, "might as well know you're doin' it, but Morgan,  _if_ , okay, on the off chance that yellow-eyed bitch shows up, you get out as soon as you see her. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded in immediate agreement.

* * *

Bryan was eager to learn everything Sam was willing to teach him, though did his best to keep his enthusiasm in check, he didn't want the man to think something was up, that his interest was anything other than purely educational. Sam had walked in with a plate of bacon only a little while after Bryan had gotten into the library, both were early risers, and he'd asked the young man what he was working on. Bryan blushed a bit, but trusted Sam would appreciate his curiosity and turned the text on the table for the older to read.

"I'm just tryin' to catch up," Bryan explained, "Y'all know everything about demons, I mean the way you're never surprised by anything Crowley says about Hell, it's just like-"

"Like we've been there?" Sam raised an eyebrow and Bryan looked down, his ears burning red, but the older continued, dragging the young man's gaze back to his, "Bryan, trust me, you don't want t'know Hell and demons the way Dean and I do. But I get that you need to know more, so, where're y'at?"

Bryan grinned, "Hell hounds."

Sam grimaced, "Definitely don't want to end up around those bitches."

Until Morgan and Channing offered a distraction, Bryan listened intently to Sam explain the invisible demon dogs, how to see them and kill them. He'd hoped to use the opportunity as a lead-in into further conversation about the Princes of Hell, but both his girlfriend and the toddler were an inappropriate audience for the discussion.

Bryan was unsurprised, but nonetheless disheartened by her snapping on Sam, or choice of language around Channing, though at least Morgan seemed to notice it rather than allow her emotions to continue getting the better of her actions. He did find it almost amusing how she approached Sam with the idea to scry the Beta werewolves in a confident and direct manner while seeming to almost bait their oldest brother into early refusal with an elongated pause. Truthfully, Bryan had to give Dean credit for how calm he often remained while his little sister intentionally pushed his buttons.

He was surprised Dean agreed to the plan, but his explanation left the young man nodding slightly with respect for the man's realism and directness, Dean Winchester was a smart, instinctual man, making Bryan's plan all the more difficult to execute.

Morgan couldn't scry Dagon, not that Bryan wanted her to, but if the young witch was able to pin point a position on the Prince of Hell if would make everything much simpler, as it was, he'd have to continue digging and hoping for a miracle. Understanding Dean was a paranoid hunter, like Bryan's father and grandfather, the young man assumed he kept the Colt close, definitely in his bedroom, most likely within reach from his bed. It wouldn't be an easy item to procure, but certainly the most necessary for his idea to work.

The young man was still trying to figure out how to talk to Claire about the entirety of his scheme, unsure what her reaction would be, but knowing the time was nearing where he had to know if she was in or out and trust either way she'd keep her mouth shut. It would all come out, but all Bryan needed was a head start. Dagon had no idea who he was, she would have no reason to see him coming with the only weapon that could kill her, then Morgan would be safe without losing anymore family she loved.

* * *

She flew her small, leather sack of crystals into her hand in seconds, hearing a disgruntled call from the hallway just moments before the bag met Morgan's outreached palm.

"What the hell?" Claire scoffed as she walked into the open room was Cas.

"Sorry," Morgan grimaced, "Did I hit you?"

"Almost," the blonde shook her head, "What're y'doin'?"

"Morgan had the idea to scry the Beta wolves," Dean began, his eyes on Cas, who opened his mouth in surprise, but the oldest Winchester continued before the angel could interject, "There's very minimal risk and it'll give us an idea of who's still on the board."

Morgan smiled at her brother, thankful he was being reasonable, she hadn't wanted to add the guilt of lying to them to the swirl of uncomfortable emotions pestering her already.

As Bryan and Dean darkened the large room, Sam bounced the still content toddler on his hip and Morgan arranged the gems exactly at an open table, focusing her mind on Marco, Kane and Julian. Remembering their faces, builds, smells and her stomach lurched as the memory of Kane's fingers sliding down her thighs ran across her mind, she hoped it was him who'd died at Dagon's hand.

"You ready kid?" Dean asked.

"Very," she nodded, turning her focus to the table and settling all her focus on Marco first, his dark features etched into her memory as warmth rose from her toes.

The forest was light as she found herself staring once again at the wall of Angelica and Dill, moving backwards from it a bit cautiously while turning her attention around the woods. It looked like every forest she'd ever been in, nothing distinguishing a precise location, and she'd promised her brother she'd be quick, so Morgan released her hold, feeling the rush of cool wind taking her back to the library.

"You good?" Sam asked as soon as she looked up at the group circled around her.

"Marco's alive," Morgan said, "I'm checkin' the big one, Kane, next."

"Take a minute, huh?" Dean said.

"I'm fine," she brushed off his concern and dipped her head back to her crystals.

Again, warmth carried her to the forest where she stared bitterly at the impossible vines of magic deterrents. Before she let go of her attention on Kane, however, a familiar screech tore the young witch's focus to the sky.

"How the," Morgan gaped at the falcon swooping in graceful circles as it descended onto a low branch, inclining it's head at her, " _Elsu, can you see me?"_

 _"Of course,"_  the bird seemed offended by the question, his wings ruffling a bit, " _I felt you a few minutes ago and you vanished, but now you have returned. I must admit, you look, different."_

She couldn't believe it, unsure what realm of magic it fell into for a magic falcon she'd created to be able to sense her astral form, shaking her head in astonishment, " _I'm sorry, Elsu, I'm so glad you can, I'm just surprised, I look strange because I'm not here, I'm scrying some, well, monsters, bad monsters. Can you, I mean, you've done so much for me, but do you know where this is?"_

 _"Morgan,"_ Elsu spread his wings proudly for a moment, " _you are the reason I fly this wonderful outside everyday,"_ folding his wings in and bowing slightly, the bird continued, " _I could take you here, though I wonder why you'd want to come back."_

 _"Back?"_  she clarified.

" _Yes,"_  the falcon nodded, " _We are not too far from where I found you in need of help, I've found a quite large population of prey in the area. I can't tell you precisely where, but there are quite a few caves I've spotted around here, quite a few people go in groups to some of them, but most are left alone."_

 _"Thank you,"_  Morgan nodded at Elsu, " _As always, you're an incredible help. I'm at the bunker now, just so you know, you know, if,"_ feeling like the invitation was becoming a plea to visit, Morgan trailed into a shrug.

" _I shall see you again,"_  the bird took flight and the witch let the cool rush take her back to the library.

"Hey," Dean had a hand firmly gripped to her shoulder when Morgan regained full consciousness in her body a moment later, "Y'okay? You were gone a lot longer than the first one."

"Awesome," she smiled, proceeding to tell the highly attentive group about Elsu's visit.

"How is that possible?" Sam asked, "Him finding your astral self, I mean, how?"

"I know," Morgan shook her head, "it doesn't make any sense."

"You made him, right?" Cas asked.

"Yeah, outta one of my twenty-five pound dumbbells," Dean said a bit resentfully.

"Get over it," Morgan scoffed lightly.

"It may be because Elsu's life is entirely created from her magic that it has formed a bond between them," the angel suggested and the rest of them glanced around at each other, everyone smirking with contemplation before shrugging in agreement of it being the best theory they had.

"So, Julian, huh?" Dean commented, "That had to hit Phelan where it hurts. That was like his number one, right?"

"I'm gonna check," Morgan shrugged, "Can't hurt and who knows, maybe Crowley's wrong."

"Last one," Dean said firmly.

"I got it," she nodded, dipping her head again over the crystals on the table, adjusting a couple barely a fraction of an inch before warmth pulsed through her veins.

Morgan expected darkness, just endless nothing to surround her, but her sight adjusted in a dim room, lit by a smoldering fire in the grate across the small space. The walls were stone and the ceiling low, there were no windows and the flames took a moment to brighten the scene Morgan was observing, gasping silently at the helpless figure hanging upside down in the middle of the room. Julian's arms were bound tightly to his sides with chains sizzling into his skin, silver links glinted in the firelight, constant torture wrapped around the Beta wolf.

"Just kill me you whore," Julian croaked and Morgan's stomach lurched at the soft cackle of laughter in response, turning her attention to the dark corner and the yellow eyes glaring in the darkness.

"But I'm having so much fun with you, puppy," Dagon crooned devilishly, "Don't worry, I'll put you out of your misery as soon as you're of no use to me anymore, but if there's one thing I know about dogs, they're loyal to their packs."

Julian expelled a weak laugh, "Phelan will not waste resources and energy retrieving me, you're barking up the wrong tree demon-bitch."

"First of all," Dagon moved towards the hanging man slowly, "don't sell yourself short Scrappy, your Alpha needs you far more than he'll ever admit. And second," Dagon pulled a short dagger from inside her jacket, cutting slowly from Julian's knee down the length of his thigh as the werewolf howled from the searing pain, "it's Prince Demon-Bitch thank you very much."

Julian's screams shook Morgan's attention and the witch released the scene quickly, shaking with terror as she blinked at her crystals on the library table and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering with fear and the chill from a rapid return.

"What happened?" Dean asked, "You were gone way too long for nothing."

"He's alive," Morgan said quietly, "Dagon has him."

"You saw her?" Sam's question was full of concern and Morgan nodded with her eyes down.

"Did you wait around or let go?" Dean asked in a hard voice that already knew the answer and Morgan just kept her gaze on the table as her brother growled, "That wasn't the deal, kid."

"She didn't notice me!" Morgan insisted, pushing her chair back as she stood, "I told you she wouldn't and she didn't! And how was I supposed t'know she'd be there?!"

"But you were supposed to let go if you saw her!" Dean yelled, making the little boy in Sam's arms whimper.

"A'right," Sam sighed, "I'll be right back."

Dean and Morgan glowered at each other as Sam left the library with the little boy. Bryan and Claire turned on the lights, obviously trying to avoid the tense moment between siblings, but Cas watched the fuming Winchesters with contemplation in his blue eyes.

"I was just watching," Morgan bit through gritted teeth, "My energy was focused on him, if she'd known I was there I'd've noticed."

"Sure about that?" Dean challenged.

"Excuse me?" Morgan scoffed, "How many years of magical education do you have again?"

Dean raised an eyebrow in angry surprise, "Y'r'done."

"What?" Morgan shook her head.

"Y'r'done," Dean said calmly, jerking his head at the hallway, "Go to y'r'room, I'll be there in a bit."

"Why?!" she yelled incredulously.

"Because I said so!" Dean barked.

"This is bullshit!" Morgan growled, pushing passed her brother towards the stairs.

"Y'r'right," Dean caught her by the upper arm, "It is bullshit that I can't trust a simple promise from my little sister, that I have to be accommodating to you, but that respect doesn't go both ways."

Morgan was stunned by his words, hardly noticing he'd released her, and guilt washed through her in a painful wave of self-disgust. She wanted to apologize, but Dean had already turned his back on her and Morgan decided to follow his order, descending the stairs quickly.

 

 

**Any guesses as to Dean's upcoming reaction? How well do we think Bryan's plan is going to go?**

**Thank you for reading! =)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, it feels like its been a long time every time I update now, I hope you know I'd love to sit at home and pump this story out for you all day, but I have bills and no one's going to pay them but me. I don't think you need a summary of these chapters anymore, if you're reading this than you've probably followed the rest of the story and who wants spoilers. Spoiler/warning alert- Spanking in this chapter, yeah its been a while lol
> 
> Enjoy! Your comments keep me going and I love all of them! Thank you guys so much for your continued support =)

Bryan wasn't sure if Morgan's overconfidence was coming from anger, fear or simply a development of her personality he hadn't yet encountered as fully as he did witnessing her argue with her brothers. Watching her leave the open room with a slightly embarrassed expression was almost reassuring of her humanity, the sweetness he'd fallen in love with and missed dearly, though he felt a pang of sympathy as she disappeared down the hallway. Dean had a valid point and Bryan couldn't blame him for his anger, impressed the man had kept himself so calm in the face of his sister's arrogance.

"We need t'find out where those caves are," Dean said gruffly.

"Already on it," Claire said, not lifting her eyes from her phone while swiping the screen, "Why does Wisconsin have so many cave tours?"

"Sam 'n I will head out in a couple hours," Dean continued, speaking to the angel, "You mind stickin' around 'n watchin' the kids?"

"Do what now?" Claire looked up from her phone, her brow furrowed.

"Oh yeah," Dean growled, "after what you pulled the last time we went in on those wolves I'm not lettin' any'a you near this."

"Dean-" Claire scoffed angrily.

"Claire," Bryan interjected, effectively gaining everyone's attention, "He's not wrong, we screwed up, you know it. He 'n Sam can handle it, stop arguing."

She glared at him, but Dean expelled a short laugh, "Hope y'mean that, kid," the man raised an eyebrow and lowered his voice, "and believe me when I say, I will know  _everything_  that is going on while I'm gone, even if you think there's no way I could, I will. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Bryan nodded, his expression never faltering, understanding exactly what the older man was saying, though suddenly the challenge was more intriguing than if Dean hadn't said anything.

"A'right, check this out," Sam said, walking up the stairs with his laptop in one hand and two beer bottles in the other, "I think I got somethin' on those caves," he glanced around before inclining his head a little at Dean while handing him his beer, "Where's Morgan?"

The older brother scoffed, "She just can't stop pushing."

Sam sighed, but was clearly unsurprised, and slid his laptop onto a table, continuing as he zoomed in on a map, "There's a park in Manitowoc county, some of the caves are accessible to the public, but a lot of them aren't, it's not that far from where we found Morgan. I think we should go, we need t'check this out soon."

"Agreed," Dean nodded, "Just you 'n me, though, the Mickey Mouse Club is stayin' here."

Sam shifted his eyes from his brother to Bryan and back and the young man caught the small shake of Dean's head, telling his brother he'd already handled any conversation that needed to be had with the teenager.

"I still think it's bullshit," Claire muttered.

"Well, it's a good thing your opinion doesn't count right now," Dean smirked and took a sip of his beer.

While Bryan would've liked to join the hunt, he was more interested in having the opportunity to formulate his plan, possibly even find the Colt, though he was sure Dean would be bringing it on the trip. He'd have a chance to talk to Claire, hopefully explain his idea well enough she'd understand the perfect simplicity. Overall, he was almost eager for the brothers to leave.

"We can get there by early morning if we head out in the next couple hours," Sam said.

"Okay," Dean finished his beer, setting it hard on the table and wiping his mouth with his sleeve, "I gotta take care of somethin' first."

"Dean?" Sam sounded nervous as his brother headed towards the stairs.

"I'm good," he nodded before descending the steps.

Bryan's stomach lurched, wishing he could help Morgan, keep her from further pain, but considered whatever her brother had in mind might be more beneficial than any words he could offer.

* * *

Why was she being so mean? Morgan couldn't understand the words that poured from her mouth, slipping passed her conscious without care. Her anger wasn't towards her brothers, it was at herself, trying to have any control over her emotions and continuing to fail. How did she always end up there? Buried so far in her own misery it took one of them to pull her out.

Anger, guilt, frustration, and pain swelled in her gut while Morgan sat on her bed, picking at the stray threads at the end of her blanket, waiting for Dean to walk in her room. She couldn't believe it, but something about the idea of being punished gave her peace of mind, a reassuring feeling of calm Morgan had missed. She could hardly wait for her brother to knock on her door, or not, Dean often barged in when he was angry and she couldn't exactly blame him after the things she'd said, the things she'd been saying, not to mention her general attitude towards everyone since her return.

When the hard rap finally sounded on the other side of her door, Morgan sighed with relief.

"Yeah, Dean," she said, but he was already walking in, at least he'd offered a warning knock.

He closed the door and leaned against it with his muscular arms crossed over his chest.

"So," Dean began, "Where's y'r'head at?"

"I don't know," Morgan shrugged, continuing to tug at the fringe of her blanket, "I was wrong, I'm sorry for what I said, I'm just, so, angry."

"I know," Dean nodded, "and I think I've been pretty understanding about that, but you're pushin' your luck, kid."

"I know," she agreed, grimacing at him slightly, "Can you just get it over with?"

"Get what over with?" he raised his eyebrows.

Morgan sighed heavily, "Are you gonna make me say it?"

"I'd like t'know what you're thinkin'," he shrugged, "I don't wanna create more of a rift between us than there already is right now, but I know you know there's consequences to being disrespectful and you've more than crossed that line, on several occasions, just today."

"Y'r'right," she nodded, "So," tossing her hands in the air and letting them fall in her lap, "Y'gonna do it or what?"

"Is that what you need?" Dean leveled his gaze on her.

"It's what I deserve," Morgan muttered.

"That's not what I asked," he said plainly.

Morgan sighed heavily again before slowly nodding a very tiny bit.

"Sorry was that a response?" Dean snapped.

"Yes, sir," she said quickly.

"Yes, sir what?" he inclined his head, "That was a response or you need a trip over my knee?"

"The second one," she mumbled, her face burning hot with embarrassment, staring at her fingers while pulling a particularly long thread from her blanket.

Dean pulled her desk chair into the middle of the room, but didn't take a seat, instead, he approached Morgan on her bed and gently helped her to her feet. As her brother's arms wrapped around her, Morgan felt her anger melting, overwhelmed with guilt.

"I'm sorry, Dee," she cried, curling her fingers into his flannel, "I'm so sorry."

"I know, Sweetie," he whispered, kissing her hair lightly, "This isn't you. I know my sweet little sister is in there, under all that anger, and maybe, a little fear. Am I close?" Morgan nodded into his chest, soaking his shirt with more tears when he squeezed her a little tighter, "Is this gonna help?" Again, she nodded, though a quiet sob escaped, "Y'ready?" After a final nod, Dean released her from his arms, but held her arm and pulled her towards the chair.

Morgan's heart beat faster and she instinctually pulled back a little, but, as Dean sat and gently tugged her next to his right side, Morgan took a deep breath and remembered the barrage of disrespect she'd rained on everyone for the last few days, her anger still rolling bitterly in a pit of guilt. Without being told, she unfastened her jeans and slid them to her knees, accepting Dean's help over his lap when she hesitated.

Tears started welling in her eyes again the moment the white tile was only inches from her nose and she couldn't help a whine escape from the back of her throat when her underwear were tugged down to meet her jeans. Suddenly, her rage started boiling again and Morgan wasn't as convinced that this would help her feel better, frantically she tried to push off Dean's left knee.

"Relax," he said firmly, pushing her gently between the shoulders.

"I changed my mind," Morgan said hurriedly, trying to push herself up again, but was no match for the tiny amount of force her brother was applying to her back.

"Little late for that," Dean scoffed lightly.

"No, really," she shook her head, turning her body on his lap, but hardly moving an inch as he locked his arm around her waist and snugged her to his side, "Dean, stop!"

"Morgan," her brother sighed, "I'm not gonna hurt you, you know that. Why are you here?"

She shook her head again, "Stop, I don't want it!"

"I haven't even started," he said, "and I don't believe your  _wanting_  this has anything to do with it."

"Dean, please!" Morgan begged, turning her damp eyes to him as pathetically as she could manage.

"I love you, little girl," he said quietly and raised his hand, bringing it down in one quick, sharp motion on her bare behind.

Morgan twisted her body to no avail while a second hard smack met the other side of her bottom and she started kicking her legs madly. Dean responded by shifting her onto his left knee and tossing his right leg over hers without missing a beat as his hand descended again, Morgan threw her hands out to the ground, but her nose stopped a few inches away from the floor. There was a moment or two between every swat, allowing the burn to sink in before igniting again under his hard palm.

"Dean! St-op!" she cried after catching her breath.

"Why are you here, Morgan?" Dean asked calmly, pausing the assault briefly.

"Because y'r'a jerk!" Morgan yelled, her throat tightening after the words, wishing they hadn't burst out.

Dean sighed heavily and brought his hand down in quick succession a few times on each cheek, causing Morgan to cry out, though only partially from the pain, her guilt was again overtaking the fury inside.

"I hate to see you like this," he said, returning to alternating methodical, sharp smacks on either side of her reddening behind, "and I know you hate feeling like this, treating the people who love you more than anything, the people you care about, the way you have. The attitude. The anger. And especially, any guilt you feel. It ends now, Morgan, I love you too much to let you keep goin' like this."

Morgan's legs had ceased kicking and her tears were streaming down her cheeks onto the white tile floor, but she couldn't formulate an apology. Dean's hand struck the sensitive curve where her thighs began and Morgan screamed, throwing a hand back to cover her backside, but it was quickly locked into the small of her back.

"Dea-n, p-l-ease!" Morgan sobbed, whimpering as another swat landed above the last.

" _Please_?" his question was as sharp as the hand that landed on her bottom as he said the word, "How 'bout you  _please_  stop bein' angry?  _Please_  understand that we're only tryin' t'help.  _Please_  realize you're not the only one fightin' this battle."

He didn't lose a beat in his slow, harsh pattern as he spoke in a low, stern voice and Morgan stopped fighting, hardly noticing the pain in her backside for the emotional release that was escaping through the sobs breaking her lips. Tears splashed on the tile and her right hand joined her left, clutching to Dean's calf after he let go of her wrist. She could feel her anger and guilt leaving the pit in her gut they'd been tormenting, finding a reassuring sense of calm relief from the internal turmoil.

"I'm-m so-rry, Dean," she managed, trying to force long breaths through a tight throat.

"I don't want you to be sorry," he said, rubbing her back gently, "I want you to be you."

Morgan wasn't even sure when the spanking had stopped, but her underwear was already back around her hips and Dean was carefully flipping her on his lap. Her cries had slowed, but not stopped and she buried her face in his shirt, soaking the fabric as he wrapped his arms around her.

"How y'feelin'?" he asked tentatively when she'd finally lifted her head.

"Better," she whispered with a tiny smile.

"Yeah?" he raised his eyebrows in an honest question and Morgan inclined her head at the look of concern on her brother's face, "I was scared you were gonna hate me."

Her throat tightened at the admission and she saw Dean's matching green eyes glisten a bit as she shook her head earnestly, hugging him tightly.

"I love you, Dean," Morgan said, "I'll always love you."

His sigh was relieved and his arms tightened around her for a moment, "Good, feeling's mutual."

"Better be," she smirked, poking him playfully in the ribs.

"Can we have a conversation now?" Dean asked.

Morgan expelled a short chuckle and wiping her eyes, "Yeah, prob'ly should before you guys hit the road," she scoffed at Dean's surprised expression, "C'mon, you guys haven't figured out where the caves are yet?"

"I wasn't exactly gonna lead with, by the way Sam 'n I are takin' off for a day 'r two," he shrugged.

"Claire 'n Bryan goin' with you?" she asked.

Dean let out a hard laugh, "No, after the little stunt you three pulled last time we went in on the Scooby gang Sam 'n I are gonna handle this alone, Cas is stayin' though, and remember," her brother raised a warning eyebrow, "dude doesn't sleep."

Morgan rolled her eyes, but her bottom throbbed suddenly as heat rose on her face, nodding her understanding.

"We square?" Dean asked with a small smile.

"Yeah," she answered quietly, "we're square."

"Good," he patted the side of her hip and Morgan slipped off his lap, grabbing a pair of sweatpants crumpled on her floor to replace the jeans she had no intention of pulling over her punished behind.

Though she had to admit, it certainly wasn't the harshest spanking she'd endured from Dean, far from it in fact. After the door closed on his exit, Morgan pulled the chair in front of her sink to assess the damage and was surprised to find only a light shade of pink covering her behind. The discomfort would fade in a few hours, but the relief she felt from the anger, guilt and fear that had been torturing her was gone and Morgan smiled at her tear streaked reflection.

* * *

The bunker's solid walls and heavy doors helped muffle sound, but that didn't stop the soft smacking and shrieks from echoing into the library. Bryan couldn't have been more grateful when Sam turned his Spotify on and music blared from his laptop, not exactly Bryan's preferred genre, but the acoustic guitar managed to cover the sound of Morgan and Dean down the hall. Claire had walked away towards the garage, muttering something under her breath and hadn't yet returned.

"Hey, Bryan," Sam got the young man's attention from the large volume he was barely paying attention to, "You mind checkin' on Claire?"

"Yeah," Bryan nodded, eager for an excuse to leave, "no problem."

He jogged down the stairs and took large strides towards the hall Claire had disappeared down minutes before. Neither of them were exactly thrilled about what was happening in Morgan's bedroom, though Bryan had hope it might help her feel better, he was fairly certain Claire did not.

Checking down the first hallway he came to, Bryan continued, sure the blonde had no reason to find herself in one of the dozens of storage rooms. A moment later, her location was revealed by the muffled pop of a pistol.

Bryan knocked on the heavy metal door when he reached the gun range, after waiting out a fury of shots.

"Yeah!" Claire called loudly.

"Hey," he smirked, closing the door behind himself, "you lookin' t'get y'r'ass beat too? They'd kill ya if they knew you were in here shooting by y'rself."

"Fuck them," Claire scoffed, squaring on her target and squeezed the trigger twice in quick succession.

"Or that," Bryan chuckled.

"No, seriously," the blonde almost slammed her pistol on the counter and rounded on Bryan, "They're bullshit. We're still getting punished for what we did in Montana because Dean  _my way or the highway_  Winchester needs that control! He's a fucking asshole and I'm sick of being here!"

Bryan was a bit surprised by her outburst, but, after a moment of staring blankly at her, he nodded understandingly, "Wanna leave?"

Claire expelled a short laugh, but raised her eyebrows when Bryan's serious expression didn't waiver.

"Shit, y'r'not kidding," her shocked tone was hushed.

"Nope," he raised his eyebrows and lowered his voice, "I have a plan, more of an idea really, I could use your help, but I'll understand if y'r'not up for it."

"Okay, back up," Claire shook her head hard, "First of all, don't try that reverse psychology crap on me, 'n second- what's the plan?"

"I'm workin' on it," he admitted, "but it's gonna be dangerous."

"Oh," she smirked, "I thought we'd be going to Disneyland."

"I'm gonna take down Dagon," he forced the words out and watched Claire's joking smile fade into cold fear, "I'm not stupid-"

"Sure about that?" she asked quickly, "How are you gonna do that when Sam 'n Dean can't?"

"She knows Sam 'n Dean," he reasoned, "They're on her radar, she's expecting them, but she doesn't even know I exist. If Morgan can pinpoint her location-"

"What?" Claire scoffed, "Even if we knew where she is, the only thing that can kill her is- oh shit, Bryan, y'r'not gonna-"

"You said it y'rself," he shrugged, "it's the only thing that can kill her."

"And how are you gonna get y'r'hands on it?" she challenged.

" _That_  might be harder than actually killing that bitch," Bryan chuckled darkly, "but I'm pretty sure I know where Dean keeps the Colt when he's here."

"Better grab it fast then," Claire said sarcastically.

"When they get back," Bryan nodded, "he's gonna take it with for Phelan I'm sure."

"Y'r'insane," Claire laughed, "absolutely fucking nuts."

"So you in?" he asked.

"Of course I'm in," she scoffed, "but we need a real plan."

_**Welp... this is start of a dumb idea- hope you don't think the story is though ;) Thanks for reading!** _


	13. Chapter 13

_**Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! First, Thank you everyone who asked- I'm doin' alright :) even better now as I've finally convinced my bosses the spot they stuck me makes my job quite impossible (you wouldn't believe how many people will walk up and start talking to you while you have a phone to your ear) and I've moved back to my homey little storage room with a space heater where I can actually use my down time to write- so this week has been much better, besides sleeping, but honestly that's a forever losing battle.** _

_**Thank you for the reviews! So glad you guys are still into this! Someone said they'd seen a lot of growth in my writing and that meant the world to me. Unlike a lot of writers, I'm not super confident in my ability, I constantly rewrite and over analyze everything. You'll never hear me say my writing is anything more than 'alright' because I truly want nothing more than to continue learning to string words together in ways I hadn't before. So to the Guest who made that comment, thank you, that was greatly appreciated.** _

_**Personal note- I'll be 30 on Sunday... I realize it's not a big deal... still not thrilled lol** _

Morgan had composed herself, her eyes no longer red and puffy from crying and even the pain in her backside had subsided into a warm discomfort. She pulled on a sweatshirt, planning to catch her brothers before they left, and reached for her doorknob, but her hand stalled when she heard shouting in the hallway.

"I'm going with you!" her eyes widened at the sound of Garth yelling, Morgan had never heard him even raise his voice before, "This is  _my_  fight!"

"Garth," Dean said calmly as Morgan opened the door slowly, catching sight of her brothers and Garth in Dean's room across the hall, "It wasn't like we didn't wanna invite you-"

"No, no, of course not," Sam insisted, "we just-"

"Thought you'd wanna sit this one out," Dean finished.

"That monster is the reason my beloved Bess is dead," Garth growled, "Why the  _Hell_  would you two think I'd wanna sit it out?!"

"What about Channing?" Dean crossed his arms and leveled Garth with a no-nonsense expression.

Garth paused a moment and Morgan saw his head dip a little from her position in her doorway, both brothers were in plain view, but neither seemed to notice she was there, frozen by the altercation.

"I have to do this, Dean," Garth's words sounded pushed through gritted teeth before he sighed, "Could, would, Morgan's so good with him, can she watch him?"

"That's up to her," Dean said, looking up and lifting his chin at Morgan, having just noticed she was across the hall passed his open door.

She felt a sinking twist in her stomach when Garth turned with sad eyes, pleading at her without words.

"Yeah, uh, you guys'll be gone a couple days?" she shifted her gaze between her brothers.

"In 'n out," Dean nodded, though Sam didn't look quite as confident.

"Yeah, that's fine, uh, I can watch him," Morgan nodded at Garth and the corners of this mouth twitched into a brief, almost smile, but not quite.

"Thank you," Garth said earnestly, "I wouldn't, it's just-"

"Garth," Morgan smiled at him, taking a few steps until she was leaning in Dean's doorway, "it's fine."

"We're leavin' soon," Dean said, "Make sure she's set up with whatever Channing needs."

Sam grumbled something too low for her to hear as he slipped passed Morgan out of the room, but Garth's scowl followed the tallest Winchester until after he'd disappeared.

"Where is he?" Morgan asked, earning Garth's attention and he softened his expression quickly on the young woman.

"Hmm?" Garth inclined his head with a confused look.

"Channing," Morgan shifted her eyes awkwardly.

"Yeah, of course," Garth scoffed and shook his head, "He's napping, probably be up soon. I'm, uh, gonna get my stuff together."

Morgan stepped into the room as Garth scooted passed her, turning down the hall the opposite way Sam had gone.

"Sure it's not a problem?" Dean asked.

"What're the options?" Morgan shrugged, "I don't mind watchin' him, just, y'know, I get that Garth wants revenge, but I'd think with Channing, I don't know, just, seems his priorities are kinda outta whack."

"Completely," Dean nodded, "but the same was said about our Dad."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Morgan agreed, remembering her brothers had grown up in the Impala and seedy motel rooms as their father chased one monster after another, "Still sucks."

"True that," Dean sighed before smirking at his sister, "How y'feelin'?"

"Fine," she rolled her eyes, feeling warmth creep to her face, but couldn't help returning his smirk, "I've had worse."

"Yes you have," Dean chuckled, tossing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side for a moment, "Why don't you hunt down Harry 'n Marv so we can run down the home alone protocol."

"I know who you're referring to," Morgan furrowed her brow and shook her head, "but I do  _not_  understand that reference."

"Well, Christmas is around the corner kid," he smiled, "there's a few movies we'll have to binge."

"When is it?" Morgan asked, she'd never been sure when Christmas was, remembering walking the cold streets of Chicago and seeing the decorations up for weeks.

"The twenty-fifth of December," Dean answered and Morgan appreciated the lack of shock in his tone, "few more weeks, not that we usually pay attention, just another day."

"We should," Morgan said thoughtfully, "Y'know, havin' everyone here, Channing and Garth, I mean, it might be nice to have something to celebrate."

"Maybe," Dean shrugged, "Don't go crazy though. We don't need a giant pine tree or a two-story reindeer in the library."

"Not enough room," Morgan smiled slyly, "but if I move the map table-"

"Don't touch my table," Dean said in a fake stern voice.

"You're leavin'," Morgan teased, sliding out of the room before she started giggling.

Cas was alone in the library when she walked through the open room, not stopping to chat as he was flipping through the weathered pages of a large text and didn't seem to notice her brief presence. Despite it being a bad idea, she knew Claire would be in the gun range, her friend always got angry at Dean when he punished her, harboring anger for Morgan that Morgan herself didn't feel towards her brother, so it was relieving to know the blonde had found a distraction and release.

The heavy metal door to the shooting range muffled all sound inside, but Morgan heard inaudible proof that Claire and apparently Bryan were in the room, neither seemed to be using a gun, but she pushed the door open cautiously anyway. Their conversation ended abruptly and both fixed Morgan with an awkward grin.

"Am I interrupting something?" she shifted her gaze from Bryan to Claire a few times, noting the nervous attempts to seem normal.

"Just blowin' off some steam," Claire shrugged.

"Y'know Dean'll kill you if he knew you guys were in here shooting alone," Morgan said.

Claire's smirk disappeared as her eyes narrowed, "He can try, but I'm about done bein' on the shit list for a mistake I already got my ass kicked for. He might be your brother, but he has no right to keep me from hunting."

"So what," Morgan scoffed, taken aback by her friend's instant hostility, "y'gonna leave?"

"Always been the plan," Claire nodded.

Morgan expelled a hard breath, "Alright, well, y'mind holdin' off on that plan 'til they get back at least? Cas doesn't deserve to have you sneakin' off on his watch."

"Fine," Claire shrugged, "Mind not announcing this? I'm not gonna run off, but I don't need you throwin' me under the bus. I'll tell them myself."

"We'll see how well  _that_  goes," Morgan laughed coldly.

" _They_  know this is temporary," Claire sneered, "You're the only one who thinks I'm gonna be here forever."

Morgan scowled, hurt by her friend's words and snarled in response, "I didn't even want you here in the first place if you remember."

Claire's eyebrows jumped, but quickly settled into an angry glare, "Guess we're on the same page then."

"Guys," Bryan tried and Morgan vaguely realized he'd been attempting to get their attention, though neither girl noticed, or cared.

"Guess we are," Morgan growled over her shoulder while whipping open the door and slamming it behind her, ignoring Bryan's protest for her to stop.

She was shaking with rage, heat flushed her face as Morgan stalked down the corridor. She and Claire had fought before, but it hadn't been since their first meeting that they'd thrown such viscous words at each other and Morgan wasn't even sure what had started it. She wanted to cry, to yell right in Claire's stupid face how dumb she was being and she should appreciate her brothers were training her to hunt. Hell, it wasn't even Claire who'd gotten her ass tanned! Morgan felt tears stinging her eyes and blinked them away, she'd wanted to apologize to her friends for being so cold and hoped the conversation would turn to plans for entertainment while the men were gone. The turn it had taken was unexpected to say the least.

"Earth to Morgan," Sam grabbed her arm gently and she shook her head from the fuming daze, "Y'okay?"

"Hmm? Yeah," she nodded, finding herself back in the open room and vaguely realized her brother had said her name at least twice before she'd noticed, "Fine."

"You're a worse liar than Cas," Sam smirked.

"I am not a bad liar, Sam," Cas commented dryly, still focused on the book in the library above them.

Sam rolled his eyes and Morgan forced a grin to prove she was content, despite wanting to cry and tell her brother all the terrible things she and Claire had said to each other, but she wouldn't throw Claire under the bus, even if she wanted to pummel her at that moment.

"I'm fine, really," Morgan insisted.

"Where's the rest'a you?" Dean asked as he walked in the room and slung a heavy duffel bag on the map table with a thud.

"They're comin'," Morgan lied, hoping it was true and realizing she hadn't found a chance to tell Bryan and Claire Dean wanted to have a meeting before they left.

A shrill scream tore everyone's attention to the hallway and, while they couldn't see anything, knew the only occupant of the bunker capable of making a sound that terribly high-pitched was Channing.

"Kid's up," Dean scoffed lightly.

"I'm sure he's thrilled his Dad's leavin' too," Sam muttered.

"Sam," Dean sighed, "can you  _not_  be a bitch to Garth about this? Guy's got enough on his plate."

"Yet he's the one insisting on adding more," Sam retorted bitterly.

"You forget what it's like to want revenge for somebody you love gettin' killed?" Dean growled.

"I remember it doesn't bring them back," Sam glared at Dean, "And I'm sorry if I don't wanna see that kid grow up the same way we did, with an obsessed father  _training_  him instead of  _raising_  him!"

"He's not your kid!" Dean reminded angrily, "It's not your call!"

Sam's shoulders raised as he took a deep breath and, without another word, grabbed the heavy duffel bag from the table, turned away from his brother and walked towards the garage.

"Sam," Morgan found her voice quiet and desperate sounding, but was relieved when he stopped and looked at her, "Don't leave without saying good-bye."

His hard expression broke into a small, genuine smile, "Never, Sweetie," he assured her before continuing his trek to the garage.

Morgan's insides churned as Claire walked into the room with Bryan behind her, but she wouldn't break the icy stare the blonde was fixing her with, barely noticing the young man.

"Good, gang's here," Dean clapped his hands and called to the angel, "Care t'join us Cas?"

"I assume you're going to remind them not to drink and make an obvious insinuation that Bryan and Morgan are not to have sex," Cas said nonchalantly without looking up from his book, "I don't see where I play a part in the conversation."

Morgan couldn't hide her embarrassment, feeling her face flush bright red, and, while she couldn't even glance at him, Morgan was fairly certain the uncomfortable cough she heard had burst passed Bryan's horrified lips.

"Wow," Dean said slowly, "I can always depend on you, Cas, to be as awkward as humanly possible."

"I am not human, Dean," this time Cas did look up and he was clearly not happy, "I am an angel, a warrior, I led a  _garrison_  for  _centuries_. I am not a babysitter!"

Dean sighed and rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger, "Man, please, I know, but I don't have a lot'a options here."

"I should be going with you," Cas continued as he descended the stairs, "They're mostly adults. They can watch themselves just fine. What could happen in two days?"

" _A lot_ , Cas!" Dean growled, his eyes inherently flicking towards Bryan, who's eyes were glued to the floor.

"I really don't understand your concern, Dean," Cas challenged bitterly, "Sex-"

"Cas," Dean growled, but the angel continued louder.

"-is one of the few things  _you_  take pleasure in-"

"I'm fuckin' warning you!" Dean barked, but Cas spoke even louder.

"-it is a natural human act that even  _your sister_  will eventually partake in!" Cas was yelling and Dean was barely an inch from his face, seething.

"Well it's not happenin' now!" Dean was spitting as he yelled back.

"Then trust them!" Cas pointed angrily at the teenage couple, both of whom would've loved to be anywhere else, "I'll know if she's not a virgin as soon as we get back anyway!"

"Oh my God!" Morgan screamed, unable to take anymore and bolted from the room towards her bedroom.

She had never been so embarrassed in her entire life! No, mortified, absolutely mortified that Cas would say something like that, especially in front of her over-protective brother  _and_  her boyfriend! Morgan couldn't even glance back as she fled, but hoped Bryan had the sense to follow her.

"Hey, Morgan?" a soft voice caught her attention as she hurried passed the kitchen and skidded back to see Garth holding a very squirmy Channing on the counter. If she didn't know better it would've looked like the toddler had murdered a small animal and was bathing in its blood. While at first the sight of Channing eating had made her nauseous, it had somehow become a bit adorable and extremely endearing.

"Yeah, Garth," she forced a smile, trying to push Cas and her brother's very loud words from her mind.

"Sounds a little heated in there," he smirked, jerking his head in the direction of the library.

"Yeah," Morgan nodded awkwardly, "I don't think Cas is super stoked about his nanny gig."

"I don't see why he's not comin'," Garth shook his head and Morgan scoffed lightly, "No, I know, your brother Dean's all worried 'bout your boyfriend bein' here, but I gotta say, Bryan seems like a real stand up guy."

"Thank you, Garth," a genuine grin graced Morgan's face, "he really is."

"Plus the best deterrent you two can have is right here," Garth chuckled, gesturing to his son, and, for as badly as Morgan wanted to grimace while heat crept back to her cheeks, she maintained her expression, it was the first time she'd seem the man actually smile since they'd arrived. However, it didn't last as Channing tossed a small chunk of beef heart, laughing manically when it smacked his father right in the forehead, but Garth's face was covered in blood already, at least he'd had the forethought to tie a dishtowel around his neck as a comically large bib, a useless waste on Channing as the child seemed to prefer eating as close to naked as he was allowed, ritualistically ending stained in blood. Garth definitely had a point about Channing being a better barricade between her and Bryan than Cas would.

"You want me to finish feeding him?" Morgan asked, "You should get cleaned up, you know how they get antsy when they're ready to leave."

"I've always told your brothers they need to relax," Garth almost grinned again, "Thank you, Morgan, that's very sweet," he said while untying the blood-soaked towel and offering it to her.

"Thanks, but I'm not married to this shirt," she chuckled a little, pulling off the sweatshirt she did really like, but stopped as the saddened expression on his face made Morgan register the words she'd just chosen. Her mouth went dry, unable to find anything to say to fix what she'd said, nothing would bring the tiny relief Garth had just had back and Morgan felt terrible for causing the crash of memories she was sure were flooding him. A very pathetic, and far too quiet, "I'm, so sorry, I didn't mean-" was interjected by a gentle hand raise.

"I know, Morgan," Garth nodded, "it's alright. I'll go wash up, and thank you, again."

"No, of course, you're welcome, I'm just, I am sorry," Morgan stammered quickly as she stood in front of Channing, ensuring the little boy wouldn't fall from the counter.

"Don't be," Garth grinned sadly at her and squeezed her shoulder as he passed, she realized then Garth hadn't hugged her since he'd been there and, while she obviously understood, found herself surprised how much she missed his overenthusiastic embrace.

"Hi Ora," Channing gave her the usual shy grin.

"Hey, buddy," Morgan smiled, never finding it hard to do when staring at his chubby cheeks, even when they were covered in blood, "Why aren't you eatin' your dinner?"

He said nothing, but gave her a big, red smile and stuck his hand out, blood dripping between his tiny fingers, clenching the largest portion of the heart in his fist.

"Okay, I'm gonna eat it then," Morgan shrugged and opened her mouth dramatically.

"No!" Channing snatched his hand back, giggling.

"Well if you're not gonna eat it I am," Morgan crooked a finger in a silent order for the little werewolf to hand over the heart, hoping to God this wouldn't be the one time he did.

She sighed internally when his fist met his mouth and Channing took another bite of the heart, though Morgan couldn't help laughing as more blood streamed down his chin and considered how terrifying the scene would be to an outsider.

* * *

"I really don't have much of one yet," Bryan admitted to Claire in the gun range, "I'm sure Dean's gonna bring the Colt with them to hunt down Phelan, so we'll have t'wait 'til they're back for that."

"That's the last piece," Claire said firmly, "We need to have everything figured out, like where Dagon  _is_ , before we steal that."

"I'm not stealin' anything," Bryan said bitterly, "I'm takin' what belongs to  _my_  family."

"That's a ballsy statement," Claire smirked.

"It's true," Bryan said firmly, "Their father may've taken it from my dead Gran'pa, but that don't make it theirs."

"Whatever makes you feel better about it," Claire shrugged, "The real puzzle is figuring out where that demon bitch is."

"Morgan can't scry her directly," Bryan reminded himself aloud.

"But she can find that Beta wolf," Claire suggested.

"I hate to involve her at all," Bryan muttered, knowing there was no choice in the matter, but at least it was minimal involvement and she'd be safe.

"Then we have no plan," Claire scoffed, "We need magic and neither of us has a great relationship with that crusty old Scottish witch."

"Not sure either of us have a great relationship with the cute, young one either," Bryan said quietly.

"Yeah, she's been a bitch," Claire commented and Bryan scowled at her, "What? I know, she went through some serious shit and we're all supposed to be sensitive and whatever, but c'mon, she's been a bitch since we got back."

"It's not easy to come back from that," Bryan said firmly, "she'll be fine."

"Yeah, well," Claire mumbled with less confidence, "I don't deserve the bullshit."

Bryan opened his mouth to retort, but the heavy door slowly pushed open and he instead clamped his lips into a forced grin at Morgan as she entered the room.

"Am I interrupting something?" Morgan's eyes moved from Bryan to Claire and back a few times and the young man hoped she didn't think anything more than friendly happened between him and the blonde, or worse, assume the two were making unapproved hunting plans.

"Just blowin' off some steam," Claire said and Bryan cringed a little at the word choice.

"Y'know Dean'll kill you if he knew you guys were in here shooting alone," Morgan smirked lightheartedly and Bryan grinned.

Claire, however, didn't find the comment amusing and Bryan felt her tense next to him before the blonde ground out, "He can try, but I'm about done bein' on the shit list for a mistake I already got my ass kicked for. He might be your brother, but he has no right to keep me from hunting."

"So what," Morgan was obviously surprised by Claire's reaction, but her Winchester temper flared immediately at the assault, "y'gonna leave?"

"Always been the plan," Claire nodded.

"Hey, guys-" Bryan tried to interject, realizing the conversation was escalating quickly, but he seemed invisible to the girls.

Morgan scoffed, "Alright, well, y'mind holdin' off on that plan 'til they get back at least? Cas doesn't deserve to have you sneakin' off on his watch."

"Fine," Claire seemed determined to look as uncaring as possible, "Mind not announcing this? I'm not gonna run off, but I don't need you throwin' me under the bus. I'll tell them myself."

"Claire, Morgan, c'mon-" Bryan tried a little louder, but found himself interrupted again.

"We'll see how well  _that_  goes," Morgan laughed meanly.

" _They_  know this is temporary," Claire mocked, "You're the only one who thinks I'm gonna be here forever."

Bryan saw the hurt on Morgan's face only briefly before she hardened her scowl and sneered, "I didn't even want you here in the first place if you remember."

"Guess we're on the same page then," Claire said indifferently.

"Guys," Bryan stepped between them, but Morgan had already turned to the door.

"Guess we are," Morgan yelled as she threw the door open.

"Morgan, wait!" Bryan called as the heavy door slammed with a clank.

For a moment, the cement room was silent as Bryan breathed heavily at the door before rounding on Claire angrily.

"What the fuck?!" he implored.

"What?!" Claire barked back, "She can be a bitch to me and I can't give it back a little?"

"She wasn't being a bitch!" Bryan yelled, "She literally said exactly what I said when I came in here!"

"Whatever," Claire scoffed, trying to push passed him to leave, but Bryan blocked her path.

"Did I miss the part of the plan to piss Morgan off?" Bryan growled, "You think you can get her to scry that wolf again now?"

"She will," Claire said firmly, "and we won't have to say a word. She's a witch, she can't stop herself from magic, and a Winchester, so she can't stop her curiosity either. Trust me, the second her brothers leave, those crystals are gonna come out."

Bryan sighed, "Can you just ease up, please?"

"I will if she does," Claire shrugged.

Bryan let his head fall back, staring at the dim ceiling above, "This is gonna be a long couple'a days."

Claire took the opportunity in his momentary distraction to slip around the young man and leave the range. Shaking his head, Bryan followed her back to the open room, nodding curtly at Sam when they passed him in the hall. Morgan and Claire locked eyes again and Bryan almost wished the two of them would just beat the hell out of each other and get over it, but he knew that solution didn't work with girls.

"Good, gang's here," Dean's hand clap got Bryan's attention and the man called to his friend in the library, "Care t'join us Cas?"

The angel didn't even look up from his book and his tone was obviously bitter, "I assume you're going to remind them not to drink and make an obvious insinuation that Bryan and Morgan are not to have sex. I don't see where I play a part in the conversation."

Bryan choked, unable to squeeze back a mortified cough and his eyes found his boots, trying to block out the words around him, wishing he could melt through the floor.

"Wow," Dean scoffed, "I can always depend on you, Cas, to be as awkward as humanly possible."

Castiel finally looked up, his eyes hard on the oldest Winchester, "I am not human, Dean. I am an angel, a warrior, I led a  _garrison_  for  _centuries_. I am not a babysitter!"

Dean dropped his head, his brow in obvious frustration, "Man, please, I know, but I don't have a lot'a options here."

"I should be going with you," Castiel no less than stomped down the stairs while growling through his teeth, "They're mostly adults. They can watch themselves just fine. What could happen in two days?"

" _A lot_ , Cas!" Dean yelled and Bryan felt the man's eyes burning a hole in the top of his head, since he refused to raise his gaze from his boots, he'd never been so humiliated and knew his ears were as red as a firetruck.

"I really don't understand your concern, Dean," the angel continued, "Sex-"

"Cas," Dean said in a low tone and Bryan cringed, his thoughts begging Castiel not to continue.

"-is one of the few things  _you_  take pleasure in-"

"I'm fuckin' warning you!" Dean barked, but, to Bryan's horror, Castiel raised his voice and plowed on.

"-it is a natural human act that even  _your sister_  will eventually partake in!" Bryan couldn't believe the words the angel was yelling, his heart was pounding in his burning hot ears.

"Well it's not happenin' now!" Dean yelled back, Bryan swallowed hard, wondering if they would notice if he started slowly edging out of the room.

"Then trust them!" Castiel implored angrily, "I'll know if she's not a virgin as soon as we get back anyway!"

"Oh my God!" Morgan screamed and ran from the room, Bryan wanted nothing more than to follow, but his feet were frozen to the floor.

"Jesus Christ, Cas!" Dean pushed the angel hard in the shoulder and took a step back, running his hand through his short hair, "You can't fuckin' say that shit!"

Castiel's anger seemed to have vanished into complete confusion and Bryan still wanted to leave. Slowly, he glanced at Claire, who looked half as mortified and completely sympathetic. He hoped at least maybe this humiliating ordeal would ignite sisterhood solidarity or something from Claire and he wouldn't have to deal with her and Morgan arguing over nothing anymore.

"Dean," Castiel sighed, "Do not make me more useless than I am. You know what I do and my skills do not include,  _cockblocking_."

"Dude!" Dean almost laughed in shock and Bryan's insides churned, trying to force his thoughts on anything expect the angel, but felt the instinctual urge to place his hands over his crotch.

"Can you stop fuckin' yellin' at everybody?" Sam accosted his brother as he strode back in the room, sans duffel bag.

"Trust me, he deserves it," Dean scoffed, Bryan couldn't help a small smirk of agreement.

"Sam," Castiel shook his head, "I should be going with you, or out there finding Dagon.  _This,_  this is just humiliating."

Bryan forced himself to hold in an incredulous laugh, if the angel thought  _he_  was humiliated he should consider how Morgan and Bryan felt. He was so jealous Morgan had managed to make it out of the room.

"Claire, Bryan," Dean's sharp tone made the young man snap his head at the older and immediately followed the silent order to leave, practically pushing Claire as he hurried down the hall towards the kitchen.

His ears were still burning red and pulsing with his rapidly beating heart, but they caught the sweet sound of a giggle he missed. Slowing at the door, he and Claire peered into the kitchen where Morgan was encouraging Channing to eat a raw beef heart, the toddler was almost entirely covered in blood and the pretty young women had a few blotches on her face and shirt, but both were clearly enjoying themselves.

When Morgan noticed them in the doorway, her smile became an embarrassed smirk.

"Hey," Claire surprised Bryan by stepping in the kitchen, her voice soft.

"Hey," Morgan responded similarly.

"They suck," she jerked her blonde head in the direction of the library, "and I'm sorry I was a bitch."

"They  _really_ do, and me too," Morgan smiled a little, "more than just today."

"You've had reason," Claire shrugged.

"Not to you," the witch shook her head.

Claire smiled and looked at the little boy before squeezing one of his dark red cheeks gently and sighing heavily as she shook her head, "Can you believe them?"

"Oh my God," Morgan cringed as she laughed awkwardly, "No! What was that? Bryan, I am so, so freakin' sorry."

"Yeah, uh," Bryan chuckled weakly, "that was rough, I can't believe Cas went,  _there_."

"We were all there, Bry," Claire snapped quickly while Morgan dipped her head in renewed embarrassment and Bryan grimaced apologetically.

"Yeah, sorry," he mumbled.

Morgan shook her head at him with a small grin as if to say he needn't be sorry and Channing drew everyone's attention with a well-aimed toss of the last chunk of beef heart directly at Claire's chest and it slid quickly under her shirt.

"Gross," Claire laughed while shaking her t-shirt until the bloody portion plopped onto the tile floor, camouflaging into the gory mess.

Everyone laughed as Channing howled in amusement, until Sam, Dean and Castiel walked into the kitchen. Bryan felt his ears burn again, but kept his head up in anticipation of the announcement he was sure Dean would make.

"Alright," Dean began, his expression hard, and almost entirely focused on Bryan, "new plan, Cas is comin' with," Bryan kept his face from showing his relief, and joy, as Dean continued, "I expect nothing but absolute best behavior from all of you."

"Yes, sir," Bryan said first, considering Dean's eyes were settled directly on him as he finished with 'you', but Morgan and Claire quickly echoed his response.

"Where's Garth?" Dean asked Morgan.

"Cleanin' up," she gestured the blood covered toddler on the counter and Dean nodded.

"We're almost done packin', we'll be headin' out soon," Dean said and left the room, pushing Castiel out with him.

"You gonna be okay with him?" Sam nodded at Channing.

"Yeah, we'll be fine," Morgan assured him and smiled at Claire and Bryan, "I've got help."

Bryan smiled at Morgan, but swallowed hard when he noticed Sam's narrow gaze fixed on him. He couldn't blame them for not trusting him, hell he hardly trusted himself around the petite brunette, but would be on his best behavior, he was sure, or would at least try.

_**Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed, I'd love to hear and by the way, before you ask, nope I have no idea what was up with that fight between Morgan and Claire but have a feeling it's gonna get hashed out a little bit more...** _


	14. Chapter 14

**_Happy New Year! And I apologize for sucking! I do, you can say it, I've been crap about staying on top of these updates, but my intention for this year is to update at least every 2-3 weeks until it's finished. This chapter is a little shorter than usual, but I got the messages and will not have you wait any longer, I'm working on the next chapter already and it will be out before this month is over- I promise!_ **

"Okay," Morgan sighed, walking into Sam's bedroom with a baby monitor receiver and grinned at Claire and Bryan, "What are we watchin'?"

"Get him to go down?" Bryan asked, handing her a soda from the desk where he was straddling the chair.

"Finally," she scoffed lightly, "I can't blame him though, he's in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people and you can't exactly explain it to him."

"Yeah," Claire sounded sad as she nodded, staring into space and seeming to be talking to herself.

"Did, uh, we pick a show?" Morgan shifted her gaze between the two and Claire scooted over to let Morgan slide next to her on Sam's bed.

"You're the tie breaker," Bryan said, "My vote's for Breaking Bad."

"I said we should watch Sense Eight," Claire told her.

"I honestly don't care," Morgan shrugged, "Isn't Breaking Bad the one about the chemistry teacher who becomes a drug dealer?"

"Manufacturer," Bryan corrected with a grin.

A soft cry crackled through the baby monitor Morgan was still holding and she sighed heavily at it before sliding off the bed.

"Pick something," she said, "I'll be in 'n out anyway I'm sure."

"Gotta let him cry it out a little," Bryan said quietly.

Morgan turned in the doorway and narrowed her eyes at him, "He's a baby, without his Dad, in a place he doesn't know. I'm not gonna let him  _cry it out_."

"Just sayin'," Bryan raised his hands defensively and Morgan left the room.

The crying got louder through the speaker, but she heard the toddler's whimpering pleas echoing in the hall while walking quickly towards the room he and Garth occupied. Channing was sobbing when Morgan opened the door, letting light stream into the mostly dark room, and saw the little boy clutching the top of his pack'n'play, his sweaty head hanging towards his heaving chest.

"Channing, baby," Morgan whispered, her heart twinging with pain when his wet eyes looked up at her.

"Mom-my," his breath hitched on the word, snot spilling passed his chin.

Morgan felt her nose tingle with the threat of tears, but swallowed hard to force them back and bent down to pick up the tiny werewolf. He wriggled and pushed, kicking his little feet a few times before collapsing on her shoulder with shrieking sobs.

"I'm so sorry, baby," Morgan whispered, rubbing his back and hugging him tightly while he calmed, "I'm so sorry."

After a few minutes, she noticed Channing's breathing had evened and chanced a glance over her shoulder into the mirror to see the little boy sleeping soundly. Morgan had no interest in hurrying, however, and continued running her hand up and down his small, pajama covered back for a few minutes before carefully laying him in the makeshift crib. It was incredible to her how sweet and peaceful he could look only minutes after being overcome with misery, her heart ached for Channing and the life he would have now. Would Garth become the new generation John Winchester? Dragging his son all over the country on an obsessive quest for revenge, maybe even unknowingly having another baby with a woman who has no business raising a child. Stray tears crept down Morgan's cheeks, wishing she could save the little boy from the unknown pain his life would undoubtedly bring and knowing she couldn't.

With a heavy, yet quiet, sigh, she picked up the baby monitor and silently closed the door on her exit. The hallway grew louder as she walked towards Sam's room and Morgan slowed her steps, listening closely to Channing's soft breath crackling out of the monitor speaker, but Bryan's next words caught her attention.

"John Winchester was a fuckin' asshole."

Her face flushed with anger at the same moment her eyes stung with tears and Morgan found her feet rooted to the tile she was standing on in the hall outside Sam's room.

"Well," she strained to hear Claire's response, "we'll never know," a few moments of crunching was quickly followed by, "I'm done with this, I'm grabbin' a beer. You want one?"

"I'm good," Bryan answered.

Morgan wanted to rush down the hall, but her legs felt like lead and she knew it was too late anyway as Claire left Sam's room and smiled brightly at her.

"Hey, c'mon, we're gettin' started," the blonde jerked her head into the room invitingly, but Morgan had no interest in walking over the threshold in the current company.

"I'm, uh," she shook her head, putting a hand to her temple in the hopes of covering some of what she was sure were beet red cheeks, "I just got this headache all of a sudden, I think Channing crying 'n everything. I'm, just, uh, gonna grab some Advil 'n go to bed."

"Y'sure?" Claire seemed honestly disheartened.

"Yeah, I just need to lay down," Morgan nodded gently, playing up the fake headache more than she knew she should.

"Okay, well, feel better," Claire looked at her with concern, but was clearly not convinced by the ailment.

"Thanks," Morgan's feet found a way to move again and she turned back up the hall to the bathroom, she didn't need medicine, but it at least offered an escape.

Bryan calling her father a 'fuckin' asshole' echoed around and around in her head, there was no stopping it no matter what else she tried to focus on, all she could hear were those hateful words about a man she'd never met and had nothing but confused feelings towards. She knew he hadn't been perfect, maybe he was an asshole. No, no he wasn't, Sam and Dean had told her he wasn't and there was no one else in the world with more reason to despise the man than her brothers. Why did Bryan call him that? How did Bryan even know her father and why hadn't he said anything in all the conversations about his family, her family, the Colt that connected them beyond hunting?

Morgan felt pressure behind her eyes, but tears didn't fall, just anger pulsed hard through her veins while her mind raced with questions and obscenities she'd like to hurl at Bryan.

* * *

"Well, you two are definitely suited to have kids together," Claire scoffed lightly after Morgan left the room.

"I'm not wrong," Bryan muttered, "Sometimes they just gotta cry themselves back t'sleep."

"Is that advice from the same era of people who rubbed whiskey on baby gums when they're teething?" Claire's smirk was barely holding back a laugh.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "those crazy old wives who taped their kids ears to their heads."

"Wait, what?" Claire burst out laughing.

"You've never heard'a that?" Bryan was surprised as Claire shook her head with subsiding amusement, "Yeah, if a kid was born with y'know, Dumbo ears," he stuck his index fingers behind his own to explain his point and Claire laughed again.

"Wait, so people used to tape their babies' ears to their heads?" she would have been incredulous if she didn't find it so funny.

"It really wasn't that weird," Bryan smirked.

"Gotta disagree," Claire giggled, "So, did you have Dumbo ears?"

Bryan scoffed and shook his head, but felt his ears heating while he picked up the remote and returned his attention to the Netflix menu, "So, Breaking Bad, yeah?"

"Awe you did," Claire crooned through laughter, "You had your ears taped!"

"No," Bryan couldn't help a chuckle, "I just grew into 'em. My Dad told me he did though, didn't remember it, but Granpa reminded him enough."

"Did you know your Granpa well?" Claire asked.

"I saw him a lot when I was really little," Bryan nodded, "Then he 'n my Dad had a falling out 'bout a year before Granpa died, so the last time I saw him I was maybe seven."

"Was that when he showed you the Colt?" Claire sat forward on the bed, listening intently.

"One of 'em," Bryan shrugged, "He never went anywhere without that gun, I honestly can't remember a time I saw him without him pullin' it out and tellin' me the story of the Colt and how our family got it. Pretty sure it was the only thing Granpa 'n my Dad had in common for the last few years."

"Besides you," Claire scoffed.

Bryan smiled a little at her, he'd never thought of that.

"Have you thought anymore about how we're gonna pinpoint Dagon?" Claire asked, "I mean, the Colt's gonna be a trial in itself, but until we know where we're goin' it seems pointless to even think about stealing."

"I'm not stealing it," Bryan growled.

"Yeah, fine," she rolled her eyes, "whatever y'wanna call it, Dean's gonna call it stealing."

"That's what my Dad called what they did," Bryan said, "They were outta my Granpa's cabin before we'd even heard he died. My Dad tried callin' John when he found out, had t'hear about it from an old buddy's widow, she ran this road house we always stopped at when we'd go to visit Granpa. I remember my Dad was hollerin' on the phone with her, not like they were arguing, but I think she felt the same way about John Winchester as my Dad did, maybe even worse. When they got off my Dad told me the gun was where it needed to be, but he wasn't happy about it," Bryan scoffed at the memory, "He wouldn't tell me anything 'n I kept botherin' him about it 'til he finally lit me up 'n told me it wasn't my concern, but he was pissed 'n it wasn't at me."

"I thought your Dad thought it was lost, that the vamps took it," Claire's brow was furrowed, her eyes locked on Bryan's as he spoke.

"Couldn't exactly tell them I know their Dad gotta hold of it," Bryan shrugged, "No, my Dad wasn't gonna let it go 'til he knew, and he was a damn good tracker. It didn't take long for him to figure out what happened, but I think that actually made it worse, knowing John had it."

"So, your Dad stopped chasing it," Claire began thoughtfully, "maybe he knew the Winchesters needed it."

"I'm sure they did," Bryan agreed, "but now I need it and they've had it on lend long enough."

"I wonder if John and your Dad knew each other," Claire said.

Bryan nodded slowly, "I'm sure they did. I never met him, but from what I've heard Sam 'n Dean are nothing like him, well maybe Dean a little bit, but not heartless."

"Heartless?" Claire inclined her head.

"I don't know," Bryan shrugged, "I shouldn't say anything, I don't know if it's true, just what I remember hearin', but my Dad said John Winchester was a fuckin' asshole."

"Well," Claire sighed and grabbed her soda, "we'll never know," she crushed the can while draining the liquid and made a rather embellished smacking sound with her lips when she pulled it away, "I'm done with this, I'm grabbin' a beer. You want one?"

"I'm good," Bryan said and Claire left the room, his heart beat hard, however, when he heard her greet Morgan as soon as she walked into the hall.

"Hey, c'mon, we're gettin' started," Claire's invite was light, welcoming, having let his proclamation about John Winchester float into her mind and out just as quickly because she seemed genuinely surprised by Morgan's stammered excuse of a sudden headache, Bryan, however, simply felt guilt stabbing him in the gut.

He should go after her, tell her he was talking out of his ass, he was, he knew that. He only talked to Claire about things like his past, his family, because she didn't judge him, Bryan felt comfortable knowing he could tell her stuff, secrets even, and they were safe with Claire. He'd never met John Winchester, hell, he'd only heard his father speak of him that one time, for all he knew the two men had never met in person either, but his grandfather had taken a special interest in him and Bryan knew that had hurt his Dad to no end.

"Well that was fuckin' weird," Claire scoffed, leaning in the doorway and watching Morgan walk back down the hall towards the bathroom.

"Not really," Bryan grumbled irritably.

"What?" Claire inclined her head.

"Y'don't suppose she heard me call her Dad a fuckin' asshole do ya?" Bryan knew his tone was harsh, he wasn't mad at Claire, he was mad at himself.

Claire's eyes went wide for a moment before she grimaced, "Shit."

"Yeah," he sighed, pushing himself to stand.

"Where're you goin'?" she asked without moving from the doorway.

"To apologize," Bryan said, "She doesn't know I was just talkin' shit."

"Give her a minute," Claire blocked the exit more consciously.

"Move, Claire," Bryan requested as kindly as possible in his lowest natural tone, "Please."

"She's gonna hate you right now," Claire warned, but stepped aside for him to pass.

"I know," he nodded and jerked his head at the bathroom questioningly, Claire nodded and Bryan walked swiftly down the hall.

Bryan begged a mantra of ' _please don't hate me_ ' all the way to the bathroom and took a deep breath before walking in, nearly immediately seeing Morgan staring at her reflection in the mirror, though her attention diverted quickly.

"Get out," she rounded on him and pointed to the doorway.

"Baby, please," Bryan tried.

"Fuck your baby please," she spat, "I heard you!"

"I know you did," he hung his head, "I'm really sorry."

"No you're not," Morgan scoffed bitterly.

"Morgan, I am," Bryan implored, "I was just talkin' shit to Claire, it meant nothing, I swear."

"You call my father a fuckin' asshole in my brothers' house and expect me to believe you didn't mean anything by it?" she'd taken a few steps forward, her furious green eyes trained on him.

"It wasn't, I didn't," he took a breath before tripping further over his words, "my Dad said that, but I never met your Dad, I wouldn't know if it was true, 'n honestly  _my_  Dad was kind of a fuckin' asshole so I wouldn't count his word for much on that anyway."

Morgan stared at him for a moment, her anger seeming to dissolve a bit and her next words seemed to be spoken only for her ears, "Or maybe he'd know better than anyone."

"Morgan?" Bryan said gently, "I did not, I really didn't mean it, I was just talkin' about my Dad 'n it came up. He was wrong anyway," at that she inclined her head at him with curiosity, "With kids as great as John has there's no way he could've been."

Morgan scoffed lightly at the compliment, "I, uh, didn't realize our Dad's knew each other."

"I don't know that they did," Bryan said, "May've just heard about each other through my Granpa, I think my Dad was kinda jealous of the relationship he 'n John had, I don't know, that's why I didn't say anything before, I don't remember much 'n what I heard was so long ago. Morgan, y'gotta believe me, I was just sayin' some old shit my Dad said when he was pissed, I have no reason to dislike your family. Your brothers have brought me in, taught me so much and I know I'll never be able to repay that," he sighed thinking of his plan's end game and smiled sadly at the pretty girl his heart always beat faster for, "I'm gonna try though."

"Well maybe don't start with the words  _John Winchester's a fuckin' asshole_  no matter who you're quoting," Morgan's sneer was more of a smirk and Bryan felt a little relief knowing she wasn't as angry at him.

"That's a promise," he said, pulling her gently into his arms.

"I'm still kinda mad at you," Morgan grumbled.

"I know," Bryan kissed the top of her head and held her close, his rigid frame relaxing when her arms finally wrapped around him.

"Oh good, we're all better," Claire stole their attention and they turned to the smug blonde leaning in the doorway, she held out her phone and shook it in Morgan's direction, "Dean wants to talk to you."

Morgan's eyes went wide and she took a step back from the phone, her gaze darting between the device and Bryan.

"It's on mute, tramp," Claire rolled her eyes and shoved the phone in Morgan's hand.

"Bitch," Morgan shook her head at Claire and unmuted the phone before pressing it to her ear, "Hey, Dean- Wow, you made good time," Bryan couldn't hear anything but low rumbles from the other side of the conversation, but Morgan nodded and even smiled a little, "Yeah, that's not a problem, I'll get right on it. – Thanks, Dean, I know you will. I'll look in and call you back in a few. – Love you too."

"What's he need?" Claire asked.

"I'm gonna check on Phelan and the others," she said, "They're closin' in on the area 'n want me to pinpoint as best I can which cave they're in."

"Damn," Bryan scoffed, checking his watch, "they should still be in Illinois."

"He said he's never wanted to get out of a car faster," Morgan laughed, "and for Dean that's sayin' somethin'."

"With Garth and Castiel in the backseat I can't imagine that's been a fun car ride," Claire chuckled, "Y'know, I'm actually very okay being left behind on this one."

"Right?" Morgan giggled, "C'mon, I gotta check those wolves."

**More coming soon, much sooner ;) Thanks for reading!**


	15. Chapter 15

_**I want to be a writer! What other obvious things about me would you like to know? Seriously though, I've been focusing on some original pieces and realized how badly I want to write television- so hold out hope for me friends, 2018 I'm dream seeking!** _

_**Thank you for continuing to tell me what you think of this and for even being interested in still reading it, man this story is LOOOOOONG, and getting longer ;) Here comes Chapter 15- Enjoy!** _

Morgan pushed into Dean's bedroom and flicked on the light, immediately finding the cell phone he'd mentioned sitting on the dresser, they'd been in a hurry and he'd forgotten to give it to her after pulling it from his drawer of extras and sticking in an active SIM card. Honestly, she was impressed he'd remembered to do any of that, though extremely grateful, and, while it wasn't her phone, it was better than using Claire's and Bryan's. She turned off the light and shut the door on her way out.

"Ready?" Claire asked, walking out of the kitchen with her second beer.

Morgan flicked her hand at her room and the door swung in, followed moments later by the small leather bag of crystals flying over the threshold, right to the young witch's waiting fingers.

"Yep," Morgan smirked at Claire and crooked a finger, closing the door gently.

With Channing fast asleep in Garth's room, the three decided Bryan's room next door was the best option for the scrying session, especially after Claire admitted her room was a bit of a disaster. Bryan tossed a pillow on the floor just before Morgan knelt to spread her crystals and she grinned at him, settling her knees on the soft cushion.

"Can I ask," Bryan began tentatively, "How come sometimes you need something to do this, like that claw, 'n sometimes you don't?"

"It's a matter of connection," Morgan explained, "if I've met and had some sort of contact with who I'm looking for I don't need anything because I know who I'm searching for, but if I haven't I need something connected to them or I'm, like, blind kinda. D'you know what I'm saying?"

"Not remotely," Bryan chuckled, "but yeah, I mean, it makes sense, still crazy, cool crazy y'know, not like, bad crazy."

"Stop talking," Claire grinned and Bryan nodded, biting his lips together.

"Okay," Morgan shook her head as she finished giggling, "get the lights."

In the first moment of darkness her crystals disappeared, but slowly they pulsed to life as her eyes focused, thinking only of Phelan. A warm rush filled her entirely and the bright, throbbing gems dissolved into distorted colors. Morgan waited for her view to clear, but it didn't.

It was as if she was looking into a murky aquarium, there seemed to be things around her, trees, bushes, rocks maybe, but everything was blurred. The sounds too were garbled, like her ears were filled with the same muddy water blocking her vision. Morgan was about to release out of pure frustration when a deep growl bubbled nearby and dark masses passed her at a hurried pace. She tried to follow, but knew it was hopeless as the familiar smell of Angelica and Dill reached her nose. Morgan couldn't hold on and felt a cold chill engulf her as she left the muddled fog.

"Hey, y'okay?" Bryan asked as soon as she shook her head and opened her eyes in his room.

"No, yeah," Morgan's tone betrayed her anger, "I'm fine, but," she growled in what even Morgan knew was a terrifyingly accurate representation of Dean, "I couldn't see anything!"

"What, like, he's dead?" Bryan asked excitedly.

"No," Morgan shook her head, "no, they're on the move, but they're protected from magic. It's like my head's under water, I can't see or hear anything."

"Shit," Claire sighed, slouching onto Bryan's desk and taking the last sip of her beer.

"So, what d'we do?" Bryan held out his hand to help Morgan off the floor.

"I don't know," she shrugged, wanting to kick her crystals for being so useless, but pulled Dean's spare phone from her pocket instead and dialed her brother.

"Hello," Dean answered gruffly.

"Hey, Dean, it's me," Morgan said.

"Hey, Sweetie," he brightened instantly, "What'd y'find out?"

"I'm sorry," she began, "I couldn't see anything, they're on the move now, but they're cloaking themselves with Angelica and Dill, I can't see, it's like everything's fogged. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, kiddo," he sighed and Morgan knew, while he might not blame her, he was disappointed.

"I can try again," she said, knowing it would be useless.

"Sure," Dean's tone seemed to agree, "don't beat y'rself up, we'll start trackin' them another way."

"Do you think they're going after Julian?" Morgan wondered.

"Maybe," Dean said, "but don't go gettin' ahead of ourselves, if we need you to look in on Julian we'll let you know."

"Yeah, okay," Morgan agreed, though she'd already considered the idea and hadn't completely ruled it out, "just let me know if you find anything."

"We will," he assured her, "You kids headin' to bed? It's late."

"It's really not," Morgan scoffed lightly.

"Well, it's gonna be soon," Dean said, "Trust me, you'll want the rest, that kid's gonna be up early."

"Yeah, Garth warned me," she said.

"Alright, just don't lose him again," Dean muttered.

"Excuse me," Morgan laughed, "I am not the one who lost him."

"Good night, Brat," Dean chuckled softly.

"Good night, Jerk," she said and hung up the call.

"So, what's their plan?" Claire asked without letting hardly a moment settle after Morgan pulled the phone from her ear.

"Not sure," Morgan shrugged, "he said they're gonna track them a different way."

"Old school," Bryan smirked and Claire nodded her head towards him in a gesture of solidarity.

"What's that?" Morgan asked.

"Tracking," Bryan said, "like actual tracking, following prints 'n disturbances in the area."

"That sounds tedious," Morgan grinned.

"It works," Bryan challenged with a matching expression.

"Magic's faster," she said.

"When it works," Claire interjected and Morgan's smug smile dissolved into a bitter, blank stare.

A few awkward minutes later the blonde excused herself for her bedroom, leaving Bryan and Morgan alone, which suddenly made Morgan very nervous.

"I, uh, should go too," she stood from the edge of his bed she'd been occupying.

"Yeah, sure," Bryan straightened from where he was leaning against the desk, "Uh, are we okay?"

"Sure, yeah," Morgan nodded weakly.

"Y'sure?" he inclined his head a bit closer, staring earnestly at her with his deep brown eyes.

"Look," she sighed, "I guess I get why you didn't say anything before, y'know about our Dad's maybe knowing each other, but it's just, I don't know, like, now I'm wondering what else you haven't mentioned."

Bryan's mouth tightened into a sad, yet understanding smirk as he nodded, "I get it, I do, and honestly, if there's anything else I can think of like, that stuff, I'll tell you, I swear. I just didn't think it was important, but I was wrong, I promise I'll tell you everything else, anything else I can think of, really."

"Okay," Morgan nodded, "what then?"

"What, what?" Bryan furrowed his brow.

"What else is there?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"I, I don't know," Bryan shook his head, "really, I mean, off the top of my head I don't know. That's the only time I ever heard my Dad mention yours, honest to God, Baby! If I think of something I'll tell you, I will, I swear."

"You better," Morgan uncrossed her arms and allowed Bryan to pull her close, unable to stop herself from taking a deep inhale of his scent.

"Promise," Bryan kissed her hairline gently and then found her lips a moment later.

They didn't get to kiss long before the soft cries of Channing grew louder through the wall and Morgan sighed, leaning her head on Bryan's chest.

"I should get that," she chuckled gently.

"Hey, uh," Bryan sounded nervous again, his ears even darkened in color, "How about I roll is crib thing in here and you can take my bed? I'll crash on the floor, but then he's right here in case."

"Closer than my room," Morgan thought aloud while imagining her bedroom on the opposite end of the long corridor, "I'm not sleeping in Garth and, yeah I'm not sleeping in there. Okay, yeah, I guess that works."

Morgan was surprised to find herself agreeing, but decided it was fine as long as he stayed on the floor, not to mention having a toddler in the room was bound to damper any possible mood. While they walked to the room next door, she convinced herself it was a good idea. As soon as the door opened, however, thoughts dissipated from her mind and her body reacted immediately to the toddler climbing over the railing of his playpen, dangerously unbalanced and one misstep away from falling to the tile floor.

"Channing!" she gasped and crossed the short space in less than a moment, scooping the pajama clad child into her arms.

The shock on her face mirrored in his, or maybe Morgan had scared him when she'd fearfully yelled his name, but the wide eyes didn't last long as Channing's burst with tears and crumbled into sobs.

"Baby, it's okay," she tried softly, propping him on her shoulder and rubbing his back, but the squirmy little boy was having none of it and fought to be put down.

"Where's his tablet?" Bryan asked, "Maybe some'a that show he likes will settle him down."

Morgan was continuing to hush Channing as she answered, "I don't know if that will help, shh Baby, the whole screens at night, stimulating 'n stuff, shh Channing you're fine."

"Hey buddy," Bryan's deep voice got Channing's attention, but the child didn't stop wailing, "Wanna watch your show?"

At the sight of the blue rubber covered tablet Channing stopped crying and sniffled a few times as he nodded and a small grin slowly crept onto his face.

"Great," Morgan scoffed and handed the toddler to Bryan, "You take him, I'll get this," she focused her attention on the playpen and spread her fingers deliberately, a moment later it was gone.

Channing and Bryan gasped, though the latter's sounded a bit over dramatic, causing the little boy to giggle.

"Where'd it go?" Bryan turned his head both ways with a confused look and Channing laughed louder.

"Yeah," Morgan rolled her eyes and passed them to leave the room, "get him all riled up when he should be sleeping."

"C'mon, bud, we gotta find it," Bryan continued speaking to Channing and started sniffing dramatically in the air around them, "Can you smell it?"

Channing followed suit and his nose quickly turned to the door and he pointed to the hallway. Bryan smiled at Morgan who couldn't hide her amusement and slipped quickly into his room, situating the playpen a few inches closer to the bed.

"Is it, you think it's in here?" Bryan stepped over the threshold and Channing pointed excitedly at the makeshift crib, "You found it!" he held up a large outstretched palm and the toddler slapped it firmly with his own.

"You sleepy buddy?" Morgan asked hopefully.

Despite his heavy eyes betraying a different truth, Channing shook his head firmly and said, "Taw Trol."

"I did promise his show," Bryan reasoned.

"You did," Morgan commented dryly before lightening her tone significantly, "Okay, Channing, you can watch Paw Patrol but you gotta lay down alright."

He seemed to contemplate this for a minute, but as Bryan lowered him into the playpen and offered the tablet, he seemed more than content to take the device and be settled onto the little mattress. Morgan leaned over to set up the video, but Channing had already swiped his finger to access the program and was selecting one of his most frequently watched episodes.

"Kids learn fast on those things," Bryan chuckled.

"Guess so," Morgan giggled, taking a step towards him and Bryan pulled her close, "I still think its too much stimulation before bed."

"I could show you too much stimulation before bed," Bryan whispered and brought his mouth down on hers, Morgan kissed him back fiercely, even a little hard.

"Except you're sleeping on the floor," Morgan smirked after pulled her head back.

"That I am," he grinned and peered over her shoulder at the bed, "No chance you can conjure up another pillow, maybe a blanket?"

Morgan took a step back and closed her eyes, imagining her bed down the hall, the blanket heaped untidily on the sheets and her pillow propped against the headboard, she focused entirely on those two things and willed them into her arms. Channing was clapping before she opened her eyes, feeling the pillow clutched to her chest and her blanket cascading to the floor.

"Here," she giggled and swung a pointed finger from the bed to Bryan, and his pillow and blanket zoomed from the mattress into his unsuspecting arms, Channing laughed manically.

"Thanks," he smiled and turned his attention to the amused toddler while dropping his bedding on the floor between the playpen and the door, "Alright, buddy, cool if I sleep here?"

Channing nodded adamantly and turned his tablet so Bryan could see it.

"Cool, thanks," Bryan nodded, settling his sweatpants covered behind on the floor, "I've never seen it before."

"Taw Trol," Channing said.

"So you've said," Bryan grinned.

"You're crashing out already?" Morgan asked a bit disappointedly.

Bryan responded with high eyebrows and intense eyes shifting from her to Channing and back, "Of course, it's sleep time. Right buddy?"

"Taw Trol," Channing said, scooting a little away from the side of his playpen Bryan was near.

"Well, put it on then," Bryan encouraged and Channing pressed the play button.

Morgan curled on Bryan's bed and watched the tall young man on the floor propped up next to the toddler's temporary crib pretending to be enthralled by the heroic cartoon puppies on the tablet. He made an inconspicuous gesture with his hand after Channing laid his head down and Morgan flipped the lights off with a quick flick of her finger, Channing didn't seem to notice. The little boy was laying on his side watching the tablet, but, after a few minutes, Morgan watched Bryan slowly pull the device out of the playpen and turn it off.

"He out?" she asked.

"Like a light," Bryan whispered.

"You stayin' down there?" Morgan scooted back into the corner of his mattress where the walls met.

"Thought those were the rules," he answered.

"Maybe I could, y'know, change the rules, for a minute," she offered, slowly.

"A minute, huh?" she heard the soft rustle of him moving from the floor as he spoke.

"A quick minute, there's a baby," Morgan giggled.

"He's done," Bryan chuckled, crawling his top half onto the bed while still kneeling on the floor.

"You sure?" Morgan leaned forward very close to his face.

"Very sure," he whispered, inclining his head in invitation.

Morgan couldn't think of anything else witty to say and instead just pushed forward an inch to meet her lips with his. Bryan's hand found her hair and ran his fingers through before cupping the back of her head and pulling her deeper into their kiss. Morgan felt her stomach tingle and swirl with excitement as her lips worked eagerly over his, but, when she flicked the tip of her tongue into his mouth, she was surprised he pulled away.

"What?" she asked with mild shock, trying to hide the hurt she felt from his slight.

"Don't go gettin' me excited," Bryan scoffed, "There's a baby."

"He's out," Morgan smirked, pulling him closer by a gentle grip on his shirt and meeting their lips again.

"You sure?" Bryan stopped and smiled, but didn't pull away, their noses resting on the others cheeks.

"Very sure," she felt her lips brushing his as she answered and hardly finished the second word before Bryan tugged her in for a kiss again.

"Oh but it's okay for you to get me excited?" Morgan giggled after a few moments of uninterrupted kissing.

"I can't help myself," Bryan growled in her ear, causing a burn deep inside that Morgan wanted either to cease instantly or ignite to a height she hadn't yet experienced. Knowing Channing was in the room made her pull back, deciding it was better to stifle the flames before they grew out of control.

"Well, learn to," she scoffed, but couldn't help the smile on her face.

"Okay," he shrugged and started to back up, but Morgan grabbed his t-shirt.

"Don't leave," she said quietly.

He chuckled, "Well, what d'ya want?"

"You," she whispered, "but, just, don't, like, kiss me."

He shook his head, but was clearly amused, "Okay, scoot up."

Morgan did, her stomach doing a flip as Bryan crawled over and settled behind her on the small bed, putting a strong arm around her waist and pulling her close so her back was snug against his torso.

"There," he said, brushing her hair away from her neck, "now I can only kiss you, here," his lips met the soft skin behind her ear, "and here," an inch lower, "here," right on the curve before her shoulder.

"Stop," she moaned softly with very little insistence in her tone.

"You want me to?" he asked directly in her ear before kissing it lightly, sending a surge of shivers down her legs.

"May-be," she gasped.

"I will if you want me to," he said promisingly while kissing the base of her neck gently.

She didn't say anything else, not wanting to encourage more, but not wanting him to stop either. It was impossible to help a few, small, body reactions, however, and his hand found her hip bone the second time her bottom twitched into his pelvis.

"There is a child sleeping over there, missy," he growled in her ear, doing nothing to help the excitement shaking through her nerves.

"I'm not doing anything,  _mister_ ," she countered.

"You're doin' plenty," Bryan muttered, burying his face in the crook of her neck and Morgan stifled a giggle from his scruffy face tickling her soft skin.

"Well, I'll stop if you do," Morgan said.

"As much as I don't want to," Bryan sighed, "yes."

"We need to," her tone was equally as disheartened.

"I know," he nodded and kissed the back of her head before scooting to the wall, leaving enough room on the twin mattress for Morgan to lie flat on her back and look up at him.

"What'cha thinkin' about?" she asked after a few minutes of quiet, during which Bryan moved his finger lightly up and down her torso outside her t-shirt, but his eyes were staring off somewhere far away.

"You," he said, bringing his gaze back to hers.

"What about me?" Morgan smirked, finding her fingers fanning through his short hair.

"Just how amazing you are," Bryan kissed her temple and she giggled softly.

"Oh am I?"

"You are," he nodded, "when I met you I thought you were amazing and you've only proven me right."

Morgan scoffed, "I'm not perfect."

"Didn't say that," Bryan chuckled, "I said you're amazing."

"Yeah, what's so amazing about me?" she asked with a small smile.

"It would be faster to list what's not," he chuckled, "and I can't think of a thing."

"Aren't you slick?" she scoffed lightly.

"Ya like that?" Bryan's eyebrows jumped and they both laughed quietly, though Channing was still sound asleep in his playpen.

After a few moments, their amusement subsided and they returned to kissing, though not as passionately and Bryan seemed to be forcing himself not to fold over on top of Morgan.

"Can I ask you a question?" Bryan began.

"Sure, of course," Morgan nodded, though her stomach was instantly a bit queasy at the request, unsure what it could be.

"What's it like to scry?" he asked.

"Oh," Morgan said with a little surprise, "I don't know, I mean, I've been doing it so long it's hard to describe, but I guess it's like being invisible, like a fly on the wall."

"Can you use your magic while your scrying?" he asked.

"I used to be able to," she told him, "but it always left me with these terrible headaches, I honestly haven't tried since having powers again."

"Is that like a normal thing?" he inclined his head, "for witches to lose their powers and get them back?"

"Not at all," Morgan shook her head, "Mine were taken, apparently for good reason," she shrugged bitterly and noticed Bryan looked even further confused, "My Mother, she was a great witch and wanted to make a witch even more powerful, so the circumstances she had me under were extremely specific and it worked, I had, what they called  _unparalleled power_ , of course I didn't know that until months ago."

"Did your Mother know?" he asked.

"Of course she did," Morgan tried to keep anger from her tone, "she would've killed me if I didn't," Bryan scoffed with disbelief and she sat up a bit, "No, she would've. My Mother wasn't like yours, or my brothers, or even Claire's, she had me for the soul purpose of creating a magical being to trump all others. Believe me, if I hadn't been born exactly as she hoped I wouldn't've survived."

"Your Mother sounds like a peach," Bryan said dryly.

"She wasn't much of a Mother," Morgan agreed, "but I learned a lot from her and, at the end, she actually did the best thing she ever could've for me."

"What's that?" Bryan asked.

"She sent me to my brothers," Morgan grinned, "She may've been trying to save her legacy, but she ended up saving me, and, well, all that magic she made sure was inside me was declared  _unnatural_   _by God_  and-"

"Wait, what?" Bryan scoffed, "God?"

"I haven't told you this?" she furrowed her brow.

"If y'have I must've thought you were talkin' about something else," he chuckled, "You know God?"

"No," Morgan shook her head, "but my brothers do."

"Of course they do," Bryan shook his head slightly, "sorry, continue."

"Lucifer, the Devil, I knew  _him_ , he trapped me and tried to steal my powers, he, uh, he killed me," Morgan understood how strange the words were as she spoke them, "but then God sent me back, without magic."

"Why?" Bryan asked earnestly.

"I was gonna explode," Morgan shrugged, but was unable to stifle a short laugh, "Crowley described it like my magic was out growing me, Cas agreed, no human was built with the intention of harnessing that much power, and it got stronger without me being able to catch up."

"Wow," Bryan said quietly, "then I guess I'm glad God got involved."

"Yeah," Morgan scoffed, "I'm just glad my Mother's old coven master felt it was her dying duty to transfer her powers to me."

"The old lady you visited in Chicago, right?" Bryan clarified.

"Sophie Petit," Morgan confirmed, finding a smile creeping onto her face as she reminisced the ancient witch, "She didn't have to, but she helped me be, me, again."

"Good," Bryan kissed her forehead, "And you're not gonna blow up, right?"

"Well, I'm a Winchester, I can't make any promises," she laughed and Bryan joined her.

"Fair," he agreed, leaning down to kiss her, "Just,  _try_  not to, okay?"

"As long as you do," she offered and he kissed her again.

Bryan expelled a short laugh, "Deal, but my family history isn't a whole lot better."

"No, it's really not, is it?" Morgan said.

"I wonder what our Dad's would think of this," he said, running his fingers lightly down her arm.

"This?" she took his hand and twisted her fingers between his, "I never met mine, but I'm pretty sure he'd kill you right now."

"And I wouldn't blame him," Bryan smirked and they met their lips again.

"What about yours?" Morgan asked, "If he knew you were with a, witch."

"I don't know," Bryan said honestly, "I like to think he'd see you for who you are, though he'd probably be more worried about your last name than your magic."

"Fuckin' asshole," Morgan said, covering her mouth as she burst into laughter after Bryan's eyes went wide.

A little snort from Channing interrupted the mostly quiet room and both teenagers turned carefully to stare at the playpen, but, when the toddler didn't move or make another sound after a few moments they silently sighed with relief and smiled at each other.

"So," Bryan lowered his voice to nearly an inaudible level, "are you gonna try and look for Phelan again tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "I don't know if it'll help, but it won't hurt. Thinkin' I should prob'lly check on Julian with Dagon too."

"Sure that's a good idea?" Bryan asked.

"I'll be fine, she can't see me if I'm focusing on him," Morgan assured him before a yawn caught her off guard.

"Hope not," Bryan kissed her hairline and settled his head next to her on the pillow, pulling her close to his side and closing his eyes.

**_Thank you for reading, your attention and feedback mean so much to me and I greatly appreciate you being here =)_ **


	16. Chapter 16

_**You guys are so encouraging I don't feel like I deserve it =) Thank you for the wonderful comments and support! Quick side note to the SPN Family on Wayward Sisters episode- I LOVE this idea and personally will watch the spinoff, HOWEVER, are the writers really getting so lazy that they forgot what they wrote half a season ago? The 12th season ended with Crowley sacrificing himself to close the portal door to Apocalypse World it didn't just "stay open a few hours", THAT hurt, I love Crowley if you couldn't tell by my careful portrayal of him and to have his death just brushed over with one simple line was painful. Not to mention the guy who managed to pull himself out of Purgatory can't find a glowing door in a forest for TWO DAYS? Okay, enough ranting, I did like the episode except for the blatant laziness the writers have been making more an more obvious.** _

_**Morgan and Bryan are definitely getting friendlier than Dean would appreciate if he knew, lets hope he doesn't find out ;) Please enjoy this rather chill chapter, a few of you have already expressed your anticipation that something big is about to happen, you're not wrong, so enjoy the calm before the storm while you can ;-p** _

_**Thank you again and happy reading!** _

She could feel Dagon's yellow eyes boring into her as she ran through the forest, but Morgan couldn't chance a look back, sure the demon would be on her the moment she faltered her pace. Her maniacal laugh rang in the witch's ears, much closer than Morgan expected and tried to push her legs to run faster.

"Morgan," she heard her name called in the distance, but couldn't determine what direction it was coming from.

"Morgan!" louder the second time and her heart sank as she was sure it was coming from behind, but pushed harder the way she was headed, jumping over the creek and stumbling a bit as she landed, but scurried to her feet without hardly losing a step.

Dagon's cackle pierced her ears again and Morgan wanted to cry, but this was not the time. Swallowing hard, she ran even faster down a hill, slipping a bit on wet, dead leaves, but maintained her balance.

"MORGAN!" her name was called again, so close it was as if the source was right next to her and Morgan felt her legs weakening.

"MORGAN!" the forest darkened and fear surged through her, sure Dagon was coming down around her.

"Morgan!" her eyes opened in the light of Bryan's room, slowly adjusting to see the handsome young man inches from her face, his expression etched with concern, "Fuck, are you okay?"

"What happened?" she breathed quietly, her legs were shaking and ached with exhaustion.

"You were twistin' around and sweating like you're in a sauna," he said, pushing away stray hairs that were stuck to her face.

"Was it a nightmare?" Claire appeared over Bryan's shoulder, holding Channing on her hip and staring at her friend with a nervous smirk, "Like when you saw Crowley?"

"Yeah," Morgan nodded and then quickly shook her head, "No, I mean, it wasn't like with Crowley and Lucifer, like, it was an actual dream, I think."

"What happened?" Claire asked, handing Channing to Bryan and sitting next to Morgan on the bed.

"Dagon was chasing me," she said, "it was the forest I was in after I escaped the barn, I was just, running."

"Think it was real?" her friend asked.

"I'm here," Morgan shrugged with a weak attempt at a smile, "it was just a bad dream."

"You sure?" Claire raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Morgan nodded, though her sore legs weren't so sure.

"I'm gonna get this guy some breakfast," Bryan said, "I'll see you two in the kitchen?"

"Yeah, we'll be right there," Morgan said and the boys left the room.

"You're a shitty liar," Claire said after Bryan was a good distance from the room.

"I'm not lying," Morgan sat up against the headboard, scowling at Claire.

"Why are your legs shaking?" Claire challenged.

"Can I admit I was scared without you judging me for bein' a wimp?" Morgan countered.

"What?" Claire scoffed, "Morgan I would never, I mean, not for this, this is serious shit. Hell, I'm scared."

"Yeah?" Morgan asked with surprise.

"Fuck yeah," Claire nodded.

"Look," Morgan sighed, "It felt real, but I woke up. So how could it be?"

"I don't know," Claire shrugged, "but when Lucifer got his hands on you in a dream, we didn't think you were gonna come back."

"Always do," Morgan smirked.

"Better," Claire punched her gently on the shoulder and smiled wickedly, "Before we join them, can, uh, fuck just tell me what happened!"

"When?" Morgan inclined her head with confusion.

"Did you do it?!" Claire urged quietly.

"What?" Morgan laughed, "No, Channing was in here!"

"Sleeping," Claire shrugged.

"Gross," Morgan shook her head, "No, we just talked mostly, and cuddled, it was nice."

"Prude," Claire mumbled before giggling.

"Shut up," Morgan grabbed the pillow behind her and whacked her friend in the face.

"I'm just sayin'," Claire laughed and threw the pillow back at Morgan, "you wasted a perfectly good opportunity."

"Yeah," she rolled her eyes, "like I need Cas announcing I lost my virginity to the whole bunker."

"He won't," Claire sounded sure.

"No?" Morgan scoffed.

"No," Claire insisted, "I know Castiel, he says shit sometimes that's just, weird, but he'd never throw you to the wolves like that," she grimaced as soon as the words came out of her mouth, "I didn't mean-"

"I know," Morgan swung her legs off the bed, surprised they still felt cramped and tired, "it's fine."

Claire didn't continue to Morgan's great appreciation and they left the room for the kitchen.

* * *

He hadn't slept particularly well with his arm falling asleep under Morgan's pillow, but Bryan didn't dare move and occasionally opened his eyes throughout the night to watch her sleeping peacefully. He must have fallen asleep at some point, however, because he awoke to the sound of Channing crying. Not sobbing, or shrieking, more of a fearful whimper, and a sharp elbow jabbed in his abdomen a moment later told Bryan why.

Morgan was twisting and thrashing about while managing to tighten the blankets around herself, her eyes squeezed tight and her lips mumbled incoherent sounds. Bryan hopped off the bed, careful not to jostle her before trying to wake the sweat soaked young woman, his heart banging in his chest.

Channing started crying louder and Bryan turned to the toddler who had his arms outstretched while jumping in his crib, he didn't know what to do. The door opened a moment or two later and he sighed with relief at the sight of Claire, despite how worried the blonde looked as she took in the state of her friend on his bed.

"Can you get him?" Bryan jerked his head at Channing and sat by Morgan's frantically kicking legs, his hand hovering over them considering if he should try to restrain her or not, he decided not, "Morgan!"

The beautiful, young witch was completely unresponsive to his yelling her name and Bryan could think of nothing but to try again, shaking her shoulders gently as he did. After several tries he almost considered slapping her or getting an ice-cold bucket of water, but finally her eyes fluttered open.

"Fuck, are you okay?" he sighed heavily.

"What happened?" Morgan whispered, still blinking her eyes in the brightness of the room.

"You were twistin' around and sweating like you're in a sauna," Bryan told her, brushing damp hair from her face, noticing she was warm but not feverish.

"Was it a nightmare?" Claire asked, "Like when you saw Crowley?"

"Yeah," Morgan answered absently and quickly changed her response, "No, I mean, it wasn't like with Crowley and Lucifer, like, it was an actual dream, I think."

"What happened?" Claire unceremoniously handed Channing to Bryan and plopped on his bed next to Morgan, blocking his view of the beautiful witch.

"Dagon was chasing me," she said, "it was the forest I was in after I escaped the barn, I was just, running."

"Think it was real?" Claire asked and Bryan furrowed his brow in confusion, though neither of the girls was paying any attention to him or the toddler smacking his face and whining for food.

"I'm here," Morgan's answer sounded uncertain somehow, "it was just a bad dream."

"You sure?" Claire insisted.

"Yeah," Morgan nodded.

"I'm gonna get this guy some breakfast," Bryan said, "I'll see you two in the kitchen?"

"Yeah, we'll be right there," Morgan said and Bryan carried Channing out of the room.

"Okay, you're hungry?" he smiled at the toddler who was instantly happier at the attention and nodded vigorously, "Alright, lets find you some breakfast."

"I'm a wolf!" Channing burst out suddenly and growled the end of his statement.

"Yes you are," Bryan chuckled, pulling the fridge open when they entered the kitchen and turned to Channing with a contemplating expression, "Okay, chicken or beef?"

The toddler stared at him a moment before laughing loudly and Bryan shook his head with amusement, grabbing the first plastic wrapped, raw heart he saw. Channing started tugging at the neck of his pajamas, managing to wiggle the zipper down a few inches and Bryan nodded, setting the heart on the counter and the little boy on the floor. His nose wrinkled as a pungent scent hit his nostrils and Bryan was pretty sure he knew where it had come from, sighing, the young man stripped the toddler's onesie pajamas to his ankles and instantly regretted it.

Bryan coughed to the side a few times, his eyes tearing up and he wasn't sure if he should try to use the pajamas to contain the smell again or if that ship had sailed. Finally, he just hoped the girls were walking towards the kitchen and called loudly into the hallway.

"Somebody bring a diaper! And wipes! Holy water wouldn't hurt!"

Giggling outside the door told him they'd at least heard him and a moment later Morgan and Claire walked into the kitchen. The young witch pointed a finger at the floor by the boys and a backpack style diaper bag emerged.

"Y'gonna make me search?" Bryan asked pleadingly.

Morgan rolled her eyes, but flicked a finger and a diaper popped out of the main compartment, "The wipes are literally poking out of the side there and, while I'm sure you were joking, the holy water's in the red bottle, front pocket."

"Seriously?" Bryan scoffed.

"It's Garth's," Morgan shrugged and Bryan couldn't help a smirk of understanding.

"You're not gonna do that here?" Claire asked with disgust.

"Yup," Bryan smiled at Channing as he whipped the travel changing pad flat with one hand and laid the giggling toddler on top of it.

"Gross," Claire buried her head the refrigerator for a few moments before emerging with a soda.

"Grab me one please?" Bryan glanced up while trying not to breath as he opened the child's diaper, "Oh my God kid what do you eat?" Channing giggled while Bryan wiped residue from his legs and bottom, twisting a bit to make it all the harder.

"Dude! Wrap that thing!" Claire covered her nose and mouth with her sweatshirt, but Morgan just giggled and handed him a small, plastic bag from seemingly nowhere.

"Thanks," he took the bag and tossed the wipes in the soiled diaper, wrapped it around itself and dropped the pungent mess in the bag, tying it securely in a moment.

"Why do you know how to do that?" Morgan asked.

"Change a diaper?" Bryan scoffed, lifting Channing by his legs again as he slid a fresh one under him.

"Yeah, you're an only child," she pointed out.

"I got sent off to a lotta sitters," he said, gently pressing the sticky tabs on the front of Channing's diaper and lifting the little boy to his feet, "There was always other kids, babies, and when I was one of the older ones I helped out."

"Oh," Morgan smirked, "good, 'cause I've never done that before."

"What?" Bryan expelled a short laugh of surprise and tossed the bag in the garbage bin before pulling the toddler back onto his hip.

"Looks like Bryan's got a job," Claire nearly sang before sipping her soda.

"Why would I?" Morgan shrugged with a small grin, "I've never been around a baby."

"It's pretty self-explanatory," Bryan chuckled.

"Yeah," Claire sighed sarcastically, "but you're obviously a professional."

He shook his head and raised his eyebrows questioningly at Morgan, "How you doin'?"

"I'm fine," she nodded, "Just an active sleeper."

"Good," he nodded and caught sight of the heart still on the counter, "Ready to eat, buddy?"

Channing nodded vigorously, reaching towards the cellophane wrapped organ in Bryan's other hand.

"So, what's the plan for the day?" Claire asked.

"Have anything in mind?" Bryan countered while sitting Channing on the table in front of his seat and unwrapped the bloody heart.

"Shooting practice, fight training," the blonde shrugged, "I don't know, but if I watch any more Netflix I'll kill myself."

"I agree," Morgan sighed.

"What're we doin' with this guy while all that's happenin'?" Bryan shifted his eyes from the toddler happily munching the raw organ to the girls leaning against the kitchen island.

"I didn't volunteer," Claire threw up her hands defensively.

"Thanks," Morgan rolled her eyes, "I got him, we'll play with his toys or something."

"He can come in the gym," Claire said, "Can't he?"

"I can literally think of a half dozen things he could hurt himself on in there off the top of my head," Morgan scoffed.

"I'll hang out with you guys," Bryan said, grimacing as Channing smacked the heart with his other hand and blood splattered onto the young man's face.

"So, I'm trainin' by myself?" Claire stared blankly at him.

"He's gonna go down for a nap in a couple hours," Bryan shrugged, "I'll kick y'r'ass then."

"Promises, promises," the blonde grinned.

"Anybody opposed to me heatin' up the rest'a this pizza for breakfast?" Morgan turned from the refrigerator and watched her friends shake their heads.

Bryan wished he'd grabbed a dishrag as the blood covered toddler in front of him squeezed the mangled heart in his hand, oozing more red juice from the raw offal and it drizzled onto the young man's sweatpants. Channing giggled and Bryan couldn't help smiling at the happy little werewolf, wondering for a moment what his Dad or Grandpa would say if they saw the company he was keeping.

* * *

The pizza was terrible, but it was food, and Morgan still wasn't particularly picky despite the months of being well fed with a much larger variety of meals than she'd grown up with, if stolen gas station Honey Buns could be considered a meal.

She'd relieved Bryan after shoving a couple nuked slices of pepperoni in her mouth, but Channing was mostly done devouring his heart and the young man handed the bloody toddler over with his arms stretched as far from him as possible.

"I hope you didn't like that shirt," Morgan giggled at what had been a white t-shirt and Bryan shrugged.

"I'll live," he said as she turned and walked Channing to the large kitchen sink, setting the mostly naked little boy in one side of the basin.

"Cold water'll get most of it, out," the last of her sentence faded when Morgan glanced back and caught sight of Bryan's bare chest.

"I'll keep that in mind," he winked and grabbed a slice of pizza from the counter, "I'm gonna grab a shower."

Morgan watched him leave, her hands on Channing, but her eyes on the muscles flexing gently in Bryan's back as he walked. Wishing she could join him in the shower, but a tightlipped spitting sound returned her thoughts to the little boy.

"Yeah, you want a shower too, huh?" she giggled when Channing shook his head.

"Bath," he said simply.

"Well we have a sink," Morgan informed him, turning the water on in the other basin and adjusting the temperature.

When the water was warm Morgan flipped on the spray nozzle and Channing laughed wildly when she turned it on him, clapping his hands in the stream. The blood on his skin mostly dissolved and ran down the drain, but it took Morgan several minutes, and the help of a tiny drop of dish soap, to get a few dried chunks out of his wispy, light-brown hair. She wrapped the naked little boy in a large dish towel when he was completely blood free and carried him down the hall.

"I'm not great at this," she admitted with a smirk at Channing, "Sorry about the dish soap, but you smell better," he sniffed dramatically in the air and smiled, making Morgan laugh and hold him a little tighter, "You are by far my favorite werewolf ever."

She thought of the other werewolves, the ones she had very opposite feelings towards, while dressing Channing in a new diaper, tiny blue jeans and a green dinosaur shirt. Phelan was smart, much smarter than she'd given him credit for, and Morgan wracked her brain for a plan to get around the herbal deterrents. Scrying them would be useless while they were protected, but there had to be another way.

Her phone vibrated in her sweatshirt pocket and Morgan swiped her finger across the screen, "Hey, Sam."

"Hey, Morgan, how's it goin'?" Sam sounded exhausted.

"Everything's fine," she said, deciding she wouldn't mention her dream, at least not while they were on the road and cause needless worry, "How're you guys? Makin' any progress?"

"No," Sam scoffed, "They're long gone from here, we prob'lly passed them on our way in- I'M NOT SAYIN' IT'S ANYONE'S FAULT DEAN! BUT THAT'S MOST LIKELY WHAT HAPPENED!" Morgan held the phone away as her brothers argued for a few moments before Sam came back on the line, "Sorry, but yeah, kinda a wasted trip, we're already headin' back."

"Where are you?" she asked quickly, but managed to keep the momentary panic out of her voice.

"Still in Wisconsin," he said and Morgan sighed internally, "we're gonna check a few more places on the way, but we should be home late tonight. Hang on, Dean wants to talk to you."

"Hey, kid," Dean's gruff voice echoed through the speaker, "Everything good?"

"Yeah, we're fine," she insisted, "You guys sound like you haven't slept."

"Searchin' the woods all night'll do that," Dean commented dryly.

"Maybe you should stop 'n sleep somewhere on the way," Morgan advised gently.

Her brother's scoff was enough answer, "I'll be fine 'til I get to my own bed. What'd you do last night?"

Morgan's cheeks flushed, but she kept her voice even, "Not much after we talked, just went to bed."

Dean made a sound like he didn't believe her, but Morgan didn't insist, knowing she'd sound guilty if she did and decided to change the subject.

"So I think I should scrying Julian again," her words had the desired effect as she heard her brother groan.

"Why?" he asked to her great surprise.

"Well I learned more from that short session than trying to find Phelan twice," Morgan reasoned, "and maybe Dagon's right, maybe they're going to save him."

"Fine," Dean said after a few moments of quiet and she could hear how much it pained him, "but wait, okay, wait 'til we're back."

"What's it matter?" she challenged.

"Because I said so," he barked.

"Yeah, okay," Morgan scoffed.

"Excuse me?" Dean growled.

"Fine," she said, "I'll wait. Okay?"

"Watch the attitude," he warned.

"My attitude was fine 'til I got on the phone with you," Morgan spat.

"Whatever, Brat, see y'tonight," Dean said.

"Can't wait," she returned sarcastically and they hung up.

Channing turned from the tablet he was playing with and Morgan shook her head at him with a small grin, "You're lucky y'know, if you ever have any siblings you get to be the bossy, psycho older brother."

He giggled and returned his attention to the game. Only for a few minutes before Channing dropped the tablet and waddled to an open duffel bag of toys and books. Morgan followed him on her knees and let the little boy pull out one thing out after another, acting very impressed with every toy and book he presented. Channing didn't reach the bottom of the bag before finding one of his  _Paw Patrol_  action figures and carrying the toy back to his tablet. Morgan giggled watching him squat over the device, his bottom inches from the floor as he rocked on his feet and swiped the screen with his little fingers, moments later the familiar intro music for his favorite show blared from the speakers.

A soft knock on the door was quickly followed by Bryan opening it, his gaze shifting from Channing crouched on the floor to Morgan leaning against the bed.

"Squeaky clean?" she asked with a grin.

"If I got all the blood outta my ears," he said with a similar expression, "What are you two doin'?"

"You're lookin' at it," Morgan shrugged, "Go find Claire, I'll be fine with him."

"Y'sure?" Bryan asked.

"Yeah, we're good," she insisted, "Oh, Sam 'n Dean called, they're on their way back. Be here tonight."

"Really?" Bryan seemed surprised.

"Yeah, they said Phelan and the others are already gone," she shrugged, "I'm gonna look in on Julian when they get back."

"Yeah?" he raised his eyebrows, "You gonna be okay, y'know, after last night?"

"I'll be fine," Morgan brushed off his concern quickly, "It was just a dream. And, uh, I know Claire won't, but do me a favor and, uh, let me tell my brothers about that."

"Yeah, sure," Bryan nodded, "Want me to get you when we're grabbin' lunch?"

"Sure," she said and the young man shut the door as he left the room.

When a yawn caught the toddler off guard a little while later, Morgan pulled him with his tablet onto Garth's bed next to her and leaned back against the pillows. Her intention was for Channing to fall asleep next to the wall while watching his show, but as her eyelids got heavy in the warm room both drifted into an early afternoon nap.

_**Do you see the storm brewing? Just wait ;) *cue maniacal laugh*** _

_**Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!** _


	17. Chapter 17

**_While realizing I'm going to sound like a super needy review whore right now I'd just like to say this chapter took a lot out of me and I really hope for some solid comments- that being said, you know those of you who leave me reviews are my heart right? Because you are 3_ **

**_Thank you so much for reading, please enjoy_ **

Bryan rubbed his hand vigorously over his short hair, wicking most of the water away and wiping his fingers on the towel around his waist. While he missed his home, the young man had to admit the water pressure in the bunker shower room was absolutely perfect.

He pulled on the same pair of jeans he'd worn the day before after a quick sniff to make sure they didn't stink and grabbed the first t-shirt he saw in a basket of clean clothes on the floor. Bryan hadn't unpacked his bag, some of his less worn clothes were still shoved in his duffel, but he'd been pulling clothes out of the basket for a few days unsure if he should put them in the dresser or back in his bag. He missed his room, he really missed his Mom. Bryan shoved all thoughts of her to the back of his mind when his throat tightened and his eyes stung with tears, swallowing hard and refusing to dwell on the emotions bubbling under his forced stoicism.

He could hear Morgan talking on the other side of the wall in Garth's room. Bryan didn't especially want to spend a few hours of his morning babysitting, it wasn't that he didn't like Channing, he was surprised how much he enjoyed the toddler, but he really wanted to run. He'd been cooped up in a room or a car for what felt like weeks and his legs were aching to move. When Claire had suggested the gym he'd desperately wanted to second the idea, but it seemed unfair to leave Morgan with the responsibility of Channing alone.

After pushing his hair in the same direction, tying his boots and cinching his belt around his waist, Bryan left the room everyone called 'his' and headed to the one next door. He rapped his knuckles on the door and then pushed it open, it was a habit and he instantly wished he'd waited for a verbal invitation, but Morgan didn't seem upset by the intrusion, she was probably used to it.

"Squeaky clean?" she smiled at him and Bryan found a matching expression spreading across his face.

"If I got all the blood outta my ears," he said, immediately wondering why and tried to avert the conversation from himself, "What are you two doin'?"

"You're lookin' at it," Morgan shrugged, "Go find Claire, I'll be fine with him."

"Y'sure?" Bryan confirmed, not wanting it to be one of those situations where he should've stayed even if she insisted he didn't, but he really wanted to run the track in the gymnasium.

"Yeah, we're good," the way she looked at him while encouraging his absence told Bryan there was no malice or trickery behind her words, his stomach churned when she continued though, "Oh, Sam 'n Dean called, they're on their way back. Be here tonight."

"Really?" Bryan was glad his voice didn't crack as he nearly choked on the word.

"Yeah, they said Phelan and the others are already gone," she told him in a matter-of-fact tone, continuing as if she was making plans for dinner, "I'm gonna look in on Julian when they get back."

"Yeah?" again, Bryan's stomach twisted uncomfortably, he didn't understand what had happened that morning, but he didn't think peaking in on the demon from her dreams was Morgan's wisest choice at the moment, even if it might help him find Dagon, "You gonna be okay, y'know, after last night?"

"I'll be fine," Morgan insisted, "It was just a dream. And, uh, I know Claire won't, but do me a favor and, uh, let me tell my brothers about that."

"Yeah, sure," Bryan agreed, unsure how he would've broached the topic with them without revealing their sleeping arrangements anyway, "Want me to get you when we're grabbin' lunch?"

"Sure," she said and he offered a tightlipped smile before closing the door on his way out.

Bryan changed into athletic shorts and sneakers, grabbing his earbud headphones from his backpack before tracking Claire down in the gymnasium. The blonde was pummeling a punching bag in the corner when he walked in, her bouncing ponytail was deceivingly dainty compared to the hits she was landing. Bryan bent over, reaching for his toes, and reveled in the burn coursing down the backs of his legs.

"Ditchin' your girlfriend?" Claire paused when she noticed he'd joined her.

"She insisted," Bryan said, stretching one arm across his chest and then the other, "I'm gonna do a couple miles."

"Yeah, I'll join you in a minute," she lifted her gloved hands and returned to the heavy bag, attacking it with new fervor and including a few round house kicks.

Bryan stuck his headphones in and cranked the volume on his phone as he clicked into his workout playlist and  _Bring Me the Horizon's_  "Happy Song" exploded in his ears. The heavy drums encouraged his legs even more in their eagerness to move and began jogging around the track, one long stride after another. When his chest started to cramp a bit, Bryan deepened his breaths and pushed his legs even faster. For several minutes he ran full out, feeling his skin getting warm and sticky with sweat. Showering had been pointless, but Bryan selfishly preferred his change of plans from helping babysit.

* * *

Morgan didn't sleep long, strange images of Julian upside down in the dank room kept fleeting through her mind, but thankfully she didn't feel Dagon's presence. Channing was still sound asleep next to her and Morgan carefully edged off the bed, wedging a pillow next to the little boy in case he decided to do an unconscious, acrobatic roll. Grabbing the baby monitor from Garth's desk, Morgan slipped out of the room.

She could hear sounds from the direction of the gymnasium, but had little interest in joining Bryan and Claire who had far more enthusiasm for physical activity than she did. Not that Morgan didn't enjoy learning fight skills with her brothers, but running was something she felt should only be done when necessary, like while being chased by a Prince of Hell.

The Men of Letters spell books were all in the library, but Morgan still kept her Mother's in her bedroom and grabbed the  _bok Gugnir_  from the top of the stack on her dresser, continuing to the library. She preferred the arm chair in the corner to curl up with a book, especially one of her Mother's, but considered she simply preferred being somewhere comfortable while perusing the pages that held such bad memories.

Setting the baby monitor next to the half-full decanter of scotch on the side table, Morgan crossed her legs in the arm chair and cracked open the large, purple text. The last page, the blank slate for Morgan to add her own magic to the book, had been taunting her, reminding Morgan she hadn't the slightest clue how to create spells. She'd taught herself to use spells that already existed for purposes they weren't originally intended, sure, but inventing something organic seemed so far out of reach.

After about half an hour of Morgan staring absently at one incantation and another, trying to force an idea from her mind unsuccessfully, she closed the  _bok Gugnir,_  leaving it on the table as she walked towards the shelves of other spell books. The were all wrapped in different leather and large, except the small, pink one Sam and she had found soon after her arrival to the bunker, a collection of self-righteous thoughts from the good witch, Glinda of Oz.

Morgan hadn't given it much thought since she and Sam had read Glinda's theory about being born under the Spring Equinox at the start of a new millennium amplifying a witch's powers exponentially, especially since those powers were long gone. The extended versions of spells Glinda's star pupil, Phineas, was able to successfully accomplish were most likely out of reach to Morgan now. She plucked one of her favorite Men of Letter's spell books from the shelf, stacking the pink journal on top, and took them back to the arm chair.

After mindlessly studying the same page about conjuring matter from nothingness, Morgan wished she'd made some coffee and closed her eyes. The kitchen came into view in her mind. She turned to the coffee maker and readied the machine exactly how she would with her hands. A few minutes later the smell of fresh brewing coffee wafted down the hallway into the library, followed shortly by a steaming mug floating carefully up the stairs until it settled next to the baby monitor. Morgan picked it up and took a sip, returning her attention to the informative chapter.

The last inch of her cold coffee sat forgotten on the table next to the monitor where Channing's soft breath still echoed evenly and Morgan had reread the same two pages multiple times, having had to force herself to pay attention. Learning to create something from nothing was a skill she absolutely had to learn. Having finally understood how to change something that already existed into something else, Morgan was determined to teach herself how to make the air in front of her into something useful, like she'd seen her Mother do countless times. Never anything more complicated than a pen or glass for the bottle of wine she'd flown to her hand from the crate in the kitchen, but still a useful skill and Morgan missed the exhilaration succeeding in a new spell gave her.

The memories of her Mother pained her and Morgan certainly would've preferred to learn magic with less terrifying consequences for failure, but a very strange part of her missed having an external drive to master witchcraft. She scoffed at herself, unsure what it said about her when she missed the abuse, but knew that wasn't the void, simply the motivation of an expert witch, a role model in their shared art. Her thoughts shifted at that moment to the conversation with Crowley about asking Rowena to scry Dagon and Morgan considered, of all the terrible people the ancient witch and her demonic son were connected with, if Rowena had met Dagon.

Pulling the spare phone from her sweatshirt pocket, Morgan pressed the number six three times and hit send, noticing the name "Limey Fuck" flash on the screen before she held it to her ear, briefly wondering why it was necessary to save such a simple number in the contact list of a spare phone, but thought how like Sam it would've been to create dozens of nicknames for Crowley on a long, boring car ride.

"Please answer, it's me," Morgan muttered as the phone rang.

"Switchin' your numbers around?" Crowley answered haughtily.

"I don't have my phone," Morgan's response sounded like a question with how confused she was.

"Oh," Crowley's tone lightened, "hello, darling, I thought it was your brother. I got him and the Moose's voicemail."

"No," Morgan said, "but they're probably in the middle of Illinois right now and don't have service, hey, uh, I was just, uh, wondering. You talk to your Mother?"

Crowley sighed, "Well, that's what I've been trying to call your brothers about, but I didn't realize they weren't at the Pentagon. Where are you?"

"I'm here," Morgan said.

"Kitchen or library?" Crowley sounded a bit impatient.

"Library, but I'm not," Morgan realized too late what was happening and smirked at the demon leaning on the table across from her, "Hi, Crowley."

"Hello, Morgan," he grinned, a glass of scotch appearing in his hand and she couldn't help but check the decanter to see if he'd conjured it or summoned from the table, but the empty glasses sat exactly where they had been.

"Can I do that?" she asked without prompting and continued at the demon's blank, confused stare, "I know my Mother could conjure glasses, but not like food and drinks. Is that a demon thing or a practice thing?"

"The glass is mine," he looked like he would almost laugh and turned his attention to the crystal in his hand, turning it a few times, "practically lives in my back pocket, but the scotch," Crowley smirked, took a sip and then gestured his glass towards the decanter, " _that_  is your brothers'," she saw caramelly liquid rise in the glass and turned to the bottle on the table, watching the scotch level drop insignificantly.

"So, you have news?" Morgan turned the conversation to its purpose, finding herself contented with that knowledge that not even Crowley could conjure complex or living things from nothingness.

"Hardly," he scoffed, "Mother is adamantly refusing to assist under the insistence that she can't be any help."

"She probably can't," Morgan shrugged.

"Excuse me?" Crowley was genuinely taken aback.

"I wasn't thinking," she said rationally, "my head was all over when I got back and the idea of Rowena scrying Dagon seemed, simple. But has Rowena met Dagon?"

Crowley sighed so hard his shoulders and head drooped a bit before he straightened, sipped his scotch again and inclined an eyebrow, "Is this a deficiency for all witches?"

"Not even Sophie Petit could find Cas for us before she transferred me her powers," Morgan shook her head, "Is there anything of Dagon's in Hell? A close personal object or something with DNA can-"

"DNA of who?" Crowley asked a little spitefully, "The poor sap she's currently riding or just any from the past? No, unfortunately my dear there is nothing useful except previous personal experience between that evil bitch and whoever has the unlucky task of scrying her."

Morgan nodded slowly, understanding what Crowley was saying, but knowing there had to be another way. Her eyes slowly focused on the spell book still open on her lap and Morgan gasped, flipping frantically towards the front of the massive volume.

"Would she work a tandem with me?" Morgan asked, her eyes still on the book as she looked for the specific page.

"I don't think Mother's outfits typically allow for much bicycling," Crowley answered dryly and Morgan took a few moments from her search to stare at him, blinking slowly.

"It's where two witches work a spell together," she explained when he gestured his glass in a circle motion as a request for Morgan to continue.

"Perhaps," Crowley said, "Why?"

"I know how to find Dagon without looking directly at her," Morgan explained, "she's holding one of the Beta wolves hostage, if I scry him and bring Rowena with me, it's possible she could see Dagon and get enough of a reading-"

"I'm sorry," Crowley chuckled, but it was a forced chuckled, "When did you learn this?"

Morgan's stomach dropped, remembering she was alone with a very powerful demon, but tried to push away her fear with the silent mantra 'it's Crowley', repeated a few times before she answered, "Yesterday. I checked to see who was alive, since you said one of them was dead, but it turns out she's using him as bait. I'm sorry, I just got this phone like a couple hours ago, the guys left, I'm babysitting a two-year-old with my boyfriend-"

Crowley made a loud sound as he choked on the scotched he'd been drinking nonchalantly, "Dean let that horny little hothead stay back with you, alone?"

"Claire's here," Morgan shrugged.

"Hell of a chaperone," he rolled his eyes.

"Crowley, really," Morgan insisted, "I didn't mean to keep you outta the loop, just a lot went down really fast. I was gonna call you, I did call you."

"Darling, I have no expectations of ever being on the Winchesters' priority list," the demon said smugly, "Nor is it a life goal of mine, but if Dagon is still out working her plan we have a common enemy."

"Yeah, I know," Morgan nodded, "Sam 'n Dean will be back in a few hours, I'm gonna scry Julian again then. Can you come back with Rowena tonight?"

"Maybe," he smirked, "I've got your number," and in the next moment Crowley was gone.

Morgan sighed and returned her attention to the page about tandem magic, until Channing's sudden cry burst through the monitor speaker, forcing her to shut the book and leave the warm arm chair.

* * *

"Seriously, stop it!" Claire scowled down at Bryan from his position flat on the floor of the gymnasium.

"What?" he laughed, "You got me."

"Fuck you," she scoffed, "Stop goin' easy, you're not doin' me any favors."

"I'm not," Bryan insisted as he pushed himself to stand, "I mean, look, Claire, I'm not gonna try and hurt you, I just can't, but that was full strength defense I swear."

"You could'a kicked my legs out," Claire challenged and Bryan knew his expression betrayed the fact that he'd considered that move before deciding against it, "Just, fight me, okay, Mr. Chivalry? Let's go."

Bryan sighed and looked at the clock on the wall, "After lunch, okay, it's two-thirty."

Claire rolled her eyes, but left the gymnasium with him towards the kitchen, both wiping sweat from their faces.

The door to Garth and Channing's room was open and a quick glance confirmed Morgan and the toddler were elsewhere in the bunker. Just before Claire and Bryan reached the kitchen, Channing's high-pitched laughter rang in his ears, causing a momentary grimace on the handsome young man's face, but he smiled at the scene when they walked in the room.

Morgan was spinning in the middle of the kitchen with Channing in her outstretched arms, both giggling madly. She stopped and smirked with clear embarrassment when she noticed Claire and Bryan in the doorway, but the little boy begged for another round.

"Hey, Channing," Bryan smiled, "Wanna fly with me? I'm taller."

Morgan smiled back at him, handing over the excited toddler who was nodding furiously and reaching for Bryan.

"Thank you," Morgan said, "I'm gonna get him somethin' to eat, but are you guys hungry?"

"Starved," Claire said, sliding onto the counter and sipping a soda she'd taken from the refrigerator.

"Oh, you guys missed your best friend," she said sarcastically, pulling a cellophane wrapped, raw chicken heart from the top shelf.

"Who?" Claire asked with a distrustful scowl.

"Crowley stopped by for a minute," Morgan said, "Rowena can't find Dagon alone, but we might have another way to go. They're both probably gonna come back tonight after the guys get home, so, fair warning for you two to disappear before then."

Claire looked blankly at Bryan and he shrugged.

"We'll stick around," Claire said.

"Yeah, I'd like to know what's goin' on," Bryan nodded.

"Good," Morgan grinned smugly at Bryan, "I was starting to think Crowley scared you."

"Not as much as his cougar mother eye-ballin' me," Bryan smirked.

As Bryan was finishing his second large helping of macaroni and cheese and Morgan was hosing a bloody Channing off in the sink after Claire disappeared to the showers, Morgan's phone buzzed on the table.

"Hey, can you grab that?" she called over her shoulder, keeping her focus on the wriggling, wet little boy who thought there was nothing funnier than trying to get out of the sink while she gently forced him to stay put.

Bryan swallowed hard as he grabbed her phone and swiped the screen, holding it to his ear, "Hello?"

"Bryan?" Dean's gruff voice asked.

"Yeah, hey, Dean," he said, pushing back from the table, "Morgan's just cleanin' Channing up from lunch. One second, her hands are kinda full."

"Don't worry about it," Dean said, "We're a few hours out. You guys need anything?"

"I think we're okay," Bryan inclined his head at Morgan, who rolled her eyes and raised her voice towards the phone.

"There's no food here and I'm not eating pizza or mac 'n cheese for dinner," she said firmly.

Bryan heard Dean chuckle before the older man spoke, "How 'bout tacos?"

"Tacos?" Bryan echoed the offer and Morgan brightened, "Yeah, that's a winner."

"We'll swing by that Mexican joint she likes on the way in," Dean said.

"Sounds good," Bryan said and they hung up the phone.

"What?" Morgan scoffed at Bryan's intent smirk.

"For someone who's so adamant they're not a picky eater you could'a fooled me," he joked.

"Shut up, you want tacos too," she stuck her tongue out at him.

"I want that," Bryan leaned in quickly, meeting her unexpecting lips with his, but their kiss was short lived as a squeal preceded water splashing on their cheeks.

"Your makin' my man here jealous," Morgan jerked her head at the toddler while turning off the faucet.

"Channing," Bryan raised an eyebrow and sounded serious in his tone, "You're very cute, and I've let you borrow my girl here, but if steal her from me we're gonna have words, boy."

Channing buzzed his lips in a spit-soaked attempt at a raspberry and both teenagers threw their heads back laughing.

* * *

By late afternoon Morgan had returned to her spell books in the library, a much needed break while Bryan chased Channing around the open room at the bottom of the stairs and Claire sat at one of the tables, meticulously cleaning her gun. The sound of the garage door banging in the distance turned everyone's attention to the hallway, Channing seemed especially leery of the muffled sounds out of sight down the corridor.

"Dayee!" the little boy screeched and pumped his tiny legs hard, crossing the floor and disappearing from Morgan's view into the hall, though a moment later he returned in Garth's arms.

"I smell tacos," Morgan called happily, setting her book on the table and descending the stairs.

"So good to see you too," Dean scoffed, setting two take-out bags on the map table.

"You were gone a day," she reminded, pulling out the paper bag of fresh tortilla chips and ripping it open.

"Yeah," Dean muttered, sneaking his hand in the bag right before his sister could, "waste'a time and gas."

"Didn't find anything, huh?" Morgan asked, having expected nothing more.

"One dead end after another," Sam sighed, dropping a duffel bag on the floor before pulling Morgan into his side and planting a quick kiss on her hair.

"I might have somethin'," she smirked.

"Yeah, I know," Dean rolled his eyes, "We got Crowley's messages."

"Love his nickname in this phone by the way," Morgan chuckled and her brothers inclined their heads with confusion before Sam expelled a short laugh.

"You should see what he is in my phone," Sam said.

"Let's not," Dean grumbled and shook his head, "You guys wanna dig in go ahead, I'm gonna grab the last couple bags from the car."

"I'll help you," Bryan said and left towards the garage with the oldest Winchester.

"Where's Cas?" Morgan asked Sam after a glance around the room.

Sam laughed uncomfortably and rolled his eyes, "He'll be here in a minute, he needed a walk."

"Everything okay?" she pried.

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "after a millennia of flying I think he can only be in a car for so long before he loses his shit."

"Your brother blasting eighties rock probably didn't help," Garth interjected.

"In all fairness he was tryin' to drown out your snoring," Sam said.

Garth smirked before turning his attention to Morgan, "I hope Channing wasn't too much trouble."

"None," she said truthfully, "He was great and Bryan really helped, he's way better at the diaper thing."

"Not joinin' the babysitters' club, Claire?" Sam asked with a grin.

"No one wants me in charge of their kid," Claire said, earning a laugh from the room.

"So, what time are Crowley and Rowena stoppin' by?" Morgan asked, munching another chip and digging a wrapped, soft-shell taco from a bag.

"We'll call him," Sam shrugged, stacking four tacos in one large hand, "I'm gonna take a shower."

"Shower tacos?" Morgan asked.

"I'm gonna grab a beer too," Sam smirked and left towards the bedrooms.

The door above clanged as it opened and shut, hard, revealing a rather grumpy looking Cas on the metal balcony above before he slowly trudged down the spiral stairs.

"Hey, Cas," Morgan tried to sound upbeat, shifting her eyes awkwardly to Claire, who shrugged, Garth took advantage of his close proximity to the hallway and slipped out of sight with Channing before the angel reached the main level.

"Hello, Morgan," Cas said finally.

"Fun trip?" she smiled sarcastically.

"No," the angel said flatly, "the opposite actually. Maybe I should've stayed here."

Morgan felt her cheeks heat a little, thinking how grateful she was that he hadn't been.

After devouring the tacos and chips, the men cleaned themselves up from the road, Claire and Bryan sat at the map table diligently cleaning weapons from Dean's duffel arsenal and Morgan impatiently waited in the library for the go ahead to call Crowley. A stack of spell books sat on the table next to the arm chair, Glinda's pink journal wedged between two large, leather volumes seemed very out of place.

"Little light reading?" Sam asked with a smile as he walked up the stairs.

"Just a little," Morgan scoffed, closing the text in her lap, "You guys about ready?"

"Dean 'n Cas are, talking," Sam rolled his eyes and slid onto the table, putting his feet on a chair, "Hey, is that the journal from Oz?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "just skimming through some stuff."

"Find anything interesting?" Sam asked.

"Well, this tandem thing is gonna be," Morgan said, opening the book to the instructional page again and handing it to her brother, "Basically it just amplifies our power because we're working together, but there's the opportunity if done correctly that Rowena could, kinda, latch onto Dagon, sort of like a scry within a scry, but since Rowena can't see Dagon herself this is the only way to get her in contact."

"Let's hope it works," Sam grinned weakly, "It'd be nice to keep tabs on that bitch. You sure it's safe, though, right?"

"Yes, Sam," Morgan stifled a frustrated sigh, "As long as I'm focusing on Julian there's no way she'd be able to know I was there."

"Okay," Sam agreed, but she could tell he wasn't convinced, "Everything okay here last night?"

"Yeah, why?" Morgan tried to hide her surprise at the question.

"Just wondering," Sam gave her a look that made Morgan blush, but she was definitely not going to confide that she and Bryan had shared his bed, not even to her usually understanding brother.

Dean's heavy footsteps echoed into the room just before he emerged from the hallway with Cas behind him, the angel looked slightly less perturbed than when he'd arrived.

"Alright," Dean clapped his hands as he jogged up the stairs, "What're we waitin' for?"

"You," Morgan said dryly.

"Well, here I am," Dean smiled.

Morgan picked her phone off the top of the stack of books, "Can I call Crowley now?"

"Hello, darling," Morgan whipped her head to the arm chair next to her, peeking around the large stack on the small table to the demon lifting his glass of scotch with a smile, Rowena leaned on the chair back.

"Glad to see you alive, dear," Rowena crooned and Morgan couldn't tell if she meant it or not, she never could.

"Thanks," Morgan said, "Are you, uh, do you know what the plan is?"

"A tandem," Rowena nodded, "I'm quite surprised you thought of it, that's old magic most don't use anymore, except for dire circumstances."

"Pretty sure this qualifies," Dean interjected gruffly.

"So, what is it exactly that we're looking for?" Rowena's attention was focused on Morgan.

"Dagon's location," Morgan said simply.

"And that's this Prince of Hell?" the older witch clarified with her son, "Wouldn't she be a princess?"

"Does it bloody matter?" Crowley tipped his head back in frustration.

"Well, maybe that's why she's so irritable," Rowena shrugged, "Centuries of being referred to as a boy-"

"I seriously doubt that's her issue," Cas interrupted bitterly.

"Morgan," Dean waited until her green eyes met his, "You ready?"

"If she's ready?" Rowena exclaimed as Morgan was nodding, "What about if I'm ready?"

"Well are you?" Dean crossed his arms.

"To piggyback on your sister's, a mere child's spell, trying to find the location of a demon hand created by Lucifer himself?!" Rowena almost laughed.

"I'm not a child," Morgan said steadily, feeling every eye in the room on her, and, besides Garth and Channing, every occupant of the bunker had found a place to sit or lean in the library.

"Compared to me darling," Rowena's words dripped with condescension, "you are a baby."

"Makes it that much sweeter I've accomplished spells from the Book of the Damned you haven't even translated," the younger witch grinned arrogantly.

Rowena's expression hardened, "There is the same chance that demon will steal my soul from me if she feels my astral attention."

"She has no reason to expect you," Morgan said, "but I understand if you don't want to take the risk, and I don't blame you."

"It would have to be quick," Rowena demanded, "As soon as I have an impression of this, Dagon, we leave, then I can scry her alone, intermittently until I get a location."

Morgan furrowed her brow, "Are you, worried about me?"

Rowena expelled a high-pitched laugh and giggled for a moment, "Heavens no, dear, I'm worried about me, the last thing I need is your power acting like a lighthouse with me next to you."

"Wait," Sam straightened from his slouched position on the table, "Can Dagon see her even if she's focused on Julian? The, uh, werewolf."

"It's not likely," Rowena said, "but I prefer to take as few risks as possible with the Winchesters involved."

"Why are you doing this?" Morgan asked.

Rowena sighed, "Do you know anyone else who can?"

"Well, no, but, still," Morgan shrugged.

"You can thank me for being an insufferable pain in her ass until she agreed," Crowley raised his glass to himself and took a sip.

The young witch stared at the old witch a moment, knowing there was something behind her eyes, some reason she was helping that had nothing to do with Crowley, but it wasn't malicious, it wasn't underhanded, it was something Morgan hoped one day Rowena would share with her.

"We ready?" Morgan asked finally and Rowena nodded after a moment.

The only additional tool for a tandem scrying session was a short length of leather painted with a mixture of ground mustard seeds, snake oil and the blood of the two witches performing the spell. It didn't take long before the lights were dimmed, Morgan's crystals arranged and the bit of leather wrapped Rowena's right hand on top of her left, uncomfortably tight. Morgan realized why witches hadn't used this type of magic for years, it simply felt invasive.

After her body filled with warmth and Julian came into sight, now bound to a chair, but too broken to move, Morgan glanced to her left and saw Rowena, still right next to her. Quickly she turned her focus about the room, Dagon was no where to be seen, but if Julian was still alive and tied up she had to be coming back. Right?

She felt a tug on her left hand and Rowena started pulling her towards the only door in the dark little room. Morgan thought she was stumbling until she realized she wasn't and a bubble of anger boiled in her stomach, but then they passed through the wall and the young witch understood she'd moved more than just her gaze. The anger turned to excitement and Morgan, for an impossibly brief second, felt like she wanted to hug the older witch, but there would never be a time and place for that, especially not their current one. Still, she made a mental note to thank Rowena later for pushing her to perform a skill she hadn't attempted before, it almost seemed normal after only a few moments of what felt like walking at the bottom of the sea.

The room next to the one Julian was in wasn't as dark, but close. The two, small windows at the top of one wall were a familiar style to Morgan and she turned the corner for the stairs out of the basement. Rowena tugged her back and Morgan stared at her, trying to read the older witch's mind, unsure if they could, or should, speak.

"We can't go too far," Rowena said, solving Morgan's contemplation, "I could feel me leaving you already."

"But this doesn't help," Morgan glanced around the room again and her eyes caught the windows, "Can we make it over there?"

Rowena clearly didn't want to, but nodded and Morgan led her to the wall, finding herself several feet off the ground as her astral form followed her gaze to the murky glass. A steel window well with a cloudy plastic cover over the top was all Morgan could see, but she gave the space a hard once over, brushing off Rowena's gentle tugs. When the older witch yanked her wrist so hard she thought her arm would break, however, Morgan couldn't help as the momentum pulled her around. Dagon was walking into the room she was keeping Julian.

Morgan moved towards the closing door, but Rowena pulled her back, shaking her head of red curls adamantly, her eyes wide and terrified. Without hesitation Morgan started towards the door again, dragging Rowena with her.

"Awe, puppy," Dagon was bent over Julian, holding his head back with a severe grip on his dark hair, "You're not lookin' so good."

"Kill, me," Morgan only faintly heard Julian's pathetic plea, begging the demon to put him out of his misery.

"You wish," Dagon breathed, dropping his head cruelly as she turned around and Morgan's heart jumped at the sight of the dark-haired woman with hateful eyes, quickly reminding herself she was invisible to the demon, "Your pack will come for you. I still need Phelan, the rest of you, well, that'll be his price for betrayal, until of course I don't need him anymore either."

"He will, never, help, you," Julian croaked.

"After all this time," Dagon laughed, her gaze uncomfortably close to where Morgan and Rowena stood, but oblivious, "you still underestimate my powers of persuasion? He will do exactly what I need him to do, kicking and screaming if he chooses, but he will."

"He won't," Julian growled, but it seemed to take all of his strength and he slumped further in the chair.

"This is a hunt, doggy," Dagon said, a sickening smile creeping onto her face, "we're all chasing the same fox. The one who gets her first, wins. And I have the fox."

"Had," Julian corrected.

"No, have," Dagon's eyes met Morgan's in the same moment the young witch felt herself stuck, heat rising inside as Morgan realized she couldn't release the session and was being pulled further into it.

Dagon's eyes flashed yellow and Morgan frantically tried to let go, praying for the cool breeze to take her back to the bunker, but she couldn't, though she wasn't without her magic and knew her fingers were sparking with the spell that refused to be performed.

The demon's nasty smile grew wider, "I've got the little dog, my pretty, now I've got you too."

Her words brought to mind the only incantation the young witch thought might even help, if it didn't kill her, and Morgan screamed, praying it worked, though mostly sure it wouldn't, "Spiritus deambulatio libero!"

_**Chapter 18 coming soon... ... don't hate me.** _

_**Thank you for reading =)** _


	18. Chapter 18

_**Fast update, much shorter chapter, I have a plan and if you haven't noticed I really enjoy the cliffhanger "commercial break" crap- I'm sorry, but I think part of you kinda likes it too ;) ALL will be explained, but only a little bit of it in this chapter so bear with me for another couple chapters and this will all make sense (as much as anything in Supernatural does lol)** _

_**Thank you all for your wonderful reviews!** _

_**Happy Reading!** _

The library was silent except for the occasional soft murmurs from the witches bent over the table, Rowena's wrinkled hand bound on top of Morgan's. Bryan found himself unintentionally holding his breath a few times in the anxious environment and kept glancing at Dean in an attempt to read the man's stone-like expression.

Suddenly, Rowena gasped and lurched into a sitting position, immediately tugging the leather strap and releasing her hand from Morgan's, which dropped limply to the table. Bryan jumped from his leaning position against one of the tables, but Sam and Dean were already on either side of their sister.

"Morgan!" Dean yelled in her unconscious face, holding her head in his hands as he crouched next to the chair.

"What happened?!" Sam demanded, turning angrily on Rowena.

The redheaded witch seemed to be trying to speak, but nothing came out, her hands were visibly shaking as she backed her chair a few inches from the glowering Winchester. Dean was still shaking his sister and lightly smacking her cheeks as he screamed her name. Bryan thought he would vomit.

"What the  _hell_  happened?!" Sam barked again and Crowley stepped between the large hunter and his Mother.

"Give her a minute would you!" Crowley growled, gesturing at his Mother while keeping his narrow eyes locked on Sam's.

"She's here!" Sam argued loudly, "Where the hell is my sister?!"

"Cas!" Dean's frantic call was unnecessary as Castiel was already next to him, "Check her. Is she? Is her, soul-" Bryan heard Dean's voice break on the abrupt ending to his question.

The angel placed his hand on Morgan's chest and Bryan's eyes widened as a flash of light allowed Castiel's hand to pass through, disappearing into the young witch. Morgan jerked and her eyes squeezed tightly, but didn't open, and she settled back into unresponsive rest after Castiel removed his hand.

"Her soul is intact," Castiel announced, earning a sigh from nearly the entire room, "but her conscious self, she's not here."

"What does that mean?" Dean asked quickly, still trying to shake Morgan awake.

"She held on too long," Rowena's soft proclamation got everyone's attention, "I tried to get her to let go, but, she wouldn't."

"What happened?" Sam asked again with much less force.

"We saw the wolf," Rowena began, her voice gaining strength as she spoke, "and checked out the rest of the area, just a cellar, a basement somewhere, but then the demon showed up. I'd gotten a fairly decent impression in the first few moments, but your sister pulled me closer, such evil I've hardly ever felt before," Rowena shivered slightly before continuing, "Perhaps she was entranced, but she ignored my insistence to leave. Dagon noticed, she is extremely powerful, she had Morgan in her clutches before the stupid little witch released the session," the anger and fear in her tone seemed to be enough to keep the Winchesters, and Bryan, from arguing that Morgan was not stupid, they all listened intently as Rowena managed to finish her story, "She couldn't then, I could feel she was stuck, and I was stuck! I don't know if that yellow-eyed horror even knew I was there, she was so focused on Morgan and making witty Wizard of Oz comments, like the devil that formed her. And then your sister let something go, I felt her steal some of my power when she screamed, but then I was released from her spell."

The library fell silent for a few, long moments as everyone let the new information sink in, then Castiel characteristically broke the quiet.

"But if her soul is still here and she's still alive," the angel contemplated aloud, "Where is she? What could she have done?"

"I have never heard the spell she used before," Rowena said, "It was a crude warping of Latin no witch I know has ever used or pronounced in such a way."

"What d'you mean?" Sam asked.

"I can't remember the words," Rowena shook her head, "but they were strangely placed. Perhaps very old, perhaps of another world, I truly don't know, Samuel."

Bryan's heart banged in his chest, his attention darting from Morgan, unconscious in Dean's arms, to Sam, breathing heavily with his back to his siblings and his eyes on Rowena, shaking behind her son, who sipped his scotch again.

"Cas," Sam turned to the angel behind his brother, "you're sure Morgan's soul is, there?"

"Yes, Sam," Castiel nodded, "very sure."

Sam dipped his head with a hand to his chin, Dean simply looked broken, head bent over their sister. Bryan turned to Claire, who'd scooted closer to him against the table until she was pressed against his side, her expression filled with reserved anxiety. They both watched as Sam strode towards Crowley and his Mother, but moved around them to the stack of spell books on the table by the arm chair, tugging a small pink book from between several thick, dark ones. Sam flipped the pages slowly, walking back towards his siblings as he concentrated on the little book.

"Was it this?" Sam turned suddenly on Rowena and held the book flat in his large hand.

Rowena stared at the page, squinting her eyes hard and her lips moved a bit before she nodded at Sam, "Yes, I think, I'm fairly certain that's what she said."

"What is it?" Dean demanded, cradling Morgan and approaching on their brother.

"A spell from Oz," Sam explained, showing Dean the open pages, "we found it months ago."

"May I see?" Castiel gestured the little book and Sam handed it over after a moment of hesitation.

"It lets the witch who uses it extend a scrying session into the spirit world," Sam continued, "They don't have to be tethered to one focus."

"So you think?" Dean asked.

"What else makes sense?" Sam challenged.

"This is her conscious self," Castiel interjected, Bryan had never heard the angel sound so awestruck, "Protecting her soul by acting like it in the world of souls."

"So how do we get her back?" Dean's question was irritable, but Bryan appreciated that he'd asked.

"There's a return spell," Sam said, taking the book back from the angel, "but the one who cast it has to uncast it."

"So why hasn't she uncast it yet?" Dean demanded.

No one had an answer for him and everyone stared at the unconscious young witch in his arms.

"Perhaps she forgot it," Castiel offered finally.

Sam scoffed, but Dean hardened his gaze at his brother, "Really? I know you think she's Rain Man, but you  _really_  don't think there's a chance she could've forgotten the counter spell to some obscure shit the two of you found a few days after she got here?"

Sam's gaze dipped a moment before he shrugged, "You might be right."

"We'd need someone to go into the veil," Castiel said nonchalantly, causing Bryan and Claire to share a confused look, "find her and bring her-."

"You can't do that, right?" Dean asked tentatively.

"No," the angel shook his head, "only human souls. A blood relative would have a higher chance of locating her, I might-"

"I'll go," Dean turned to Sam, "I'll only need a few minutes-"

"Dean, I think-" Castiel began.

"Dean, no," Sam scoffed at his brother, not even noticing the angel had been speaking, "There's gotta be another way. Who knows  _how long_  you'll need? And you can't just kill yourself every time-"

"I may have-" Castiel tried again.

"I don't just kill myself for fun!" Dean argued bitterly.

"That's not what I'm sayin'!" Sam barked.

"HEY!" Bryan jumped as Castiel yelled, having never heard the angel that angry, or loud, "Shut up! I might have a plan."

* * *

Dagon's yellow eyes faded, everything faded into a gray mist after Morgan screamed the words she'd only mumbled in practice. For a few moments after realizing her narrow escape, Morgan felt lucky to have happened upon Glinda's journal again and almost thankful to Dagon for her word choice, springing to mind Munchkinland and the good witch herself. Though after the adrenaline settled a bit, Morgan wasn't sure she should feel grateful, having absolutely no idea where she was.

The basement room had dissolved into the fog she now stood, only sure she was moving because of the discomfort she felt while trudging through the continuing gray mist. Muffled voices reached her ears and Morgan turned around and round trying to see anything, but, no matter how she tried to move towards a flickering shadow in the fog, she couldn't reach its source.

"Hello?" she called, her throat tight with the threat of tears that only worsened with the lack of response.

It felt like hours she'd been exhaustingly wandering in the strange place, but it could've been minutes. Morgan wondered how time worked where she was, wherever she was. Where was she?

The mumbling surrounding her became torturous, unable to understand anything she heard and knew whoever they were couldn't hear her, or worse, were ignoring her pleas for help. Morgan sank, pulling her exhausted legs to her chest, burying her face in her knees as she covered her ears from the incoherent whispers. The tears wouldn't hold back anymore, pouring from her tightly shut eyes while she hugged her shins and wished she was home.

The distinct sound of heavy footsteps made her lift her head, her eyes damp, but Morgan had no more tears to cry. Her heart beat faster seeing a tall shadow approaching her, different from the others, darker and it grew as it neared the young witch. Morgan moved to run from it, but there was no where to go and something about the sound of the footsteps made her less scared.

"Dean?" Morgan whispered, finding her feet again while straining her eyes at the looming figure.

The familiar steps continued and the shadow began to take form in the mist. Her gaze met his and Morgan felt tears sting her eyes at the incredible sight, unsure if it was real and not caring if it wasn't.

"I finally found you," his deep voice was soft.

"Dad?"

_**And now a word from our sponsors... go ahead sponsors =) What do you think?** _


	19. Chapter 19

_**I'm sorry if you're lost, I can completely understand but all I can promise is I'm a detail freak so you know this will all come together with explanations soon. Thank you for the reviews and I hope you all enjoy this next installment!** _

Everyone in the library's attention was on Castiel, waiting for him to continue with his plan. Bryan's throat was sore from refusing to let hot vomit pass his tonsils, putting an arm around Claire when he felt her shaking at his side, hoping she appreciated the support as much as he did.

"We need a soul," the angel continued, his focus switching between Sam and Dean, "someone who's already dead, who won't take who knows how long getting their bearings and who we don't have to worry about bringing back."

"Why can't we just do that, uh," Dean snapped his fingers at Sam, "remember that trance thing Pamela put us in? We were in the veil then, can't we do that?"

"Do you know another psychic like Pamela?" Castiel asked and the brothers shared a brief glance before shaking their heads, "So we need a soul-"

"I suppose I could spring her Mother for a few hours," Crowley shrugged, "I doubt she's someone Morgan would prefer to see, but you said blood, correct?"

Dean made a grunting sound, clearly appreciating the knowledge that Morgan's Mother's soul was currently residing in Hell.

"I had someone else in mind," Castiel sounded exasperated.

"Who?" Sam and Dean asked together.

"Your father," the angel's words left the library in silence for a few moments, apparently leaving Castiel with the impression he hadn't made his point and he continued, "Sam, I'm sure you remember getting Bobby out of his heaven-"

"You did what?" Dean turned to his brother with more surprise than anger.

"Yeah, but," Sam was torn between Dean and the angel, "wait, you're sure our Dad's  _in_  heaven?"

"Of course," Castiel was matter-of-fact in his response and seemed confused by the brothers' baffled expressions.

"What, but, explain," Dean managed to spit out as he shook his head in disbelief.

"After you killed Azazel," Castiel said, a tiny bit condescendingly, "You saw your Father crawl out of Hell to help you kill the demon that held his deal. Where else would he be?"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Sam sounded angry.

"You never asked," the angel furrowed his brow defensively.

Dean growled.

"How're you gonna get him out though?" Sam challenged, "We had to use a psychic to channel Bobby-"

"Yeah, what the hell is that about?" Dean asked, his rage boiling.

"Can we, can I, we'll talk about it later, okay?" Sam stammered at his brother.

"Morgan is not dead, she's not a soul in the veil," Castiel explained, "she's a lost conscious of a magical human. It's unnatural and the few friends I have in heaven will want to fix that. I'm confident I can convince them to help for this one purpose."

"Will she even know him?" Sam asked Dean.

"I've showed her pictures," the oldest brother shrugged, staring at his sister in his arms, "and by now she's probably read his journal almost as much as us. I mean, I'm not sending her Mother after her and neither of us can go, so if Dad's an option, he's kinda the best one."

"I'll require your car," Castiel said to Sam, "I'll get to the gate as quickly as possible and check in with you when I know more."

"Cas," Dean said slowly, "When you see him, say Waterloo, it was our code word for Sam bein' in trouble."

"It was?" Sam furrowed his brow.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, "just in case."

"Why Water- oh," Sam's cheeks turned a deep shade of red in a matter of seconds.

"Yeah," Dean scoffed.

"Waterloo," Castiel nodded at Dean, turning to Sam, "Your car?"

"Key are in it," Sam mumbled.

A hard cough turned everyone's attention to the demon, still sipping his scotch, "This is a sensitive situation to have pride, Feathers."

"I'm sorry?" Castiel inclined his head at Crowley.

"Be a bit faster if I gave you a lift," Crowley snarked, turning his gaze about the eyes staring at him, "What? I help."

"Alright," the angel agreed, "but you have to stay back, if anyone sees you-"

"Don't worry," Crowley assured him dryly, "I'll be a good, silent mistress."

Bryan didn't hate the King of Hell anymore, even managing a small smirk of appreciation when the demon's eyes met his.

* * *

"John, I mean, or-" Morgan stammered, her entire self quaking.

"It's Dad, Morgan," he said simply, closing the last bit of space between them and putting his large hands gently on her upper arms, "Always Dad."

The emotions exploding in her chest burst passed her lips and John pulled her close, holding her in his strong arms, pressed into his firm middle as she sobbed uncontrollably. His hands smoothing her hair reminded Morgan of her brothers, followed by a soft kiss on the top of her head, but it wasn't Sam or Dean, it was their Dad, her Dad.

"H-how?" she managed finally, still holding onto him.

"You need help," he said, "I'm just lucky to be the right guy for the job."

"But how?" Morgan asked again.

"I guess your brother's buddies with an angel," John's grin made Morgan smile, afraid she was staring at him uncomfortably, but unable to take her eyes away.

"Cas? But, what?" Morgan shook her head, still smiling, still confused.

"He busted me out of heaven for a little while," he told her, "Said my little girl needed help getting home."

"And you believed him?" she scoffed lightly, because if there was anything she knew about John Winchester it was that he didn't trust strangers, especially non-human strangers.

"Came with Dean's code word," her Dad smirked, "Said you were stuck and they weren't sure why."

Morgan felt like she would cry again from frustration, hating to admit what she'd been trying to avoid accepting, "I can't remember how to get back. It's a spell, it's a weird spell, I've only read it once and I can't, I can't-"

"Shh, baby," John smoothed her hair again as he pulled her tight to his chest, "We're gonna get you home. You're okay, I got you."

Morgan cried harder, shaking her head in his shirt, but couldn't say the words pounding in her mind. Here he was, the father she'd always wanted, the man she'd never gotten to meet, the hunter that pursued a demon instead of finding her. Morgan couldn't decipher the range of emotions coursing through her, elated and terrified, while cautious and bitter. The basement her Mother had trapped her in for weeks at their house in Maywood, Illinois wouldn't leave her mind, the nest of tattered blankets she'd slept on under the window, the window John had walked passed twice.

"What is it?" he asked, and she opened her eyes to him, but found the mist had disappeared and the pair were standing at the bottom of the stairs in the same little basement Morgan had just tried to rid her thoughts of.

"You never came back for me," she whispered and felt John's arms tighten as he sighed sadly, "I know you found out, about me, you came and, she, Mother, she knew how to distract you, I know,  _the demon_ , but, you never came back."

"I did," he said, "I didn't even realize what I was doing until I got to Palo Alto," he shook his head with the bad memory, "just in time to see Sam's apartment on fire and the boys takin' off in the Impala. I failed two of my children that week, badly, and I never forgave myself for that. By the time I got back to Chicago you were gone, no one even remembered the house being occupied. I tried, but I couldn't find you."

"How were you even sure I was yours?" she asked.

"Math mostly," her Dad's amused grin was exactly Sam's and Morgan giggled, "but I learned more about Ceralia, your Mother, after our encounter, other hunters who had worked with her too. They all said the same things about her, cold, mean and only helpful for personal reasons, and that's the opposite of what I'd remembered, she was a hell of an actress."

"Trust me, I know," Morgan rolled her eyes and her Dad laughed boisterously, "What?"

"You look just like Dean when you do that," he said, his smiling eyes glistening a bit.

"I've heard," she grinned.

"You both have my Mom's eyes," John didn't look away as spoke, "I bet your brothers fell in love with you as soon as they saw you."

Morgan scoffed lightly, "It took a minute, but y'know, being a witch and all, they are your sons."

"I never imagined what happened between your Mother and I to happen," he said honestly, "and you will never know how sorry I am for what happened to you, or how much I blame myself-"

"You shouldn't-" she tried.

"I do," her Dad said simply, "and always will, but if I can protect you now, just this once, well damn it I'm gonna do it."

Morgan leaned into him, savoring every moment with her father, unsure how long she had, still not sure how it was even possible. When she looked at him again the mist had returned and the basement was gone.

"I don't know what to do," she admitted fearfully, "I don't have enough power to control this."

"I don't think that's true," John said.

"No, I don't," she shook her head, "I used to be powerful, really powerful, but, I lost it, and now I'm just, average, like every other witch."

"You're not," he said firmly, "I know what happened, your angel friend gave me a crash course on what I've missed, and baby, you're incredible. What you've fought through, what you've done, you're amazing and I only wish I'd gotten to be a part of it sooner. You're scared, you have a right to be, but you're strong enough for this, you got in it, you can get out."

"I can't," she whispered and shook her head.

"Morgan," her Dad's tone brought her eyes back to his, "you can. Where do you need to be?"

"Home," she said simply.

"Hell of a place from what I've heard," John smirked, "What's it like?"

Morgan smiled as the kitchen came to mind, Dean cooking bacon and Sam sitting at the table on his laptop while coffee brewed in the pot. The library, full of more knowledge than she could ever hope to retain, and her favorite arm chair with a stack of books on the table next to the decanter of scotch.

"It's big," she said, "there's a gun range and a gym, but the library, there's so many books," Morgan trailed off as her eyes shifted behind her Dad to the familiar shelves surrounding them.

"You're gettin' there," he smiled, glancing away from his daughter for only a moment, proof enough to Morgan that he too saw the mist disappear, revealing the large main room of the bunker.

"It's home," she sighed, staring at the empty library tables, "Sam and I sit in here a lot, reading our own stuff," it still felt like trudging through mud to move, but the room below the library materialized as she peered over the railing, "Dean sits down there when he cleans the guns, he takes forever," she laughed a bit thinking of her meticulous older brother painstakingly polishing one of his many firearms.

"He does it right," John commented proudly before laughing gently, "Pretty sure when they were younger Sam did a bad job just so Dean would do it for him."

"I believe that," Morgan giggled, noticing the bunker walls, ceiling and floor becoming sharper while she relaxed with her Dad, joking about her brothers.

"After what you've been through," John began, nodding as he looked around, "and the boys with me, you all deserve a home like this."

"I wish you could be here," Morgan said sadly and continued quietly, "If I ever get home."

"Hey," John's sharp tone was more than similar to Dean's, "None'a that, you're gettin' back."

Their surrounds had fuzzed for a moment, but quickly returned even more realistic than before as Morgan nodded curtly at her Dad, believing his words. She would get home.

"So, you gotta find a spell?" he looked around the library and scoffed lightly with a grin, "This is really incredible. How'd the boys find this place?"

"Your Dad," Morgan told him tentatively, watching his expression change to disbelief and shock, "I wasn't there, Sam told me."

"Told you what?" John was curious, but incredulous lines still creased his forehead.

"Henry got caught travelling through time," Morgan said, "He helped them with a Knight of Hell in two-thousand-thirteen, he, uh, didn't make it, I don't know much more than that," she definitely wasn't going to tell her Dad about Dean getting the Mark of Cain and subsequently becoming a Knight of Hell himself, albeit briefly, "Just that he was one of the Men of Letters and got stuck doing a blood spell through time."

"Guess I've missed a lot," he sounded a little sad and far away as he looked around the room.

"Are you happy?" Morgan asked, continuing quickly to clarify her question, "In heaven, I mean. Are you happy?"

"Yeah," John nodded, "I am."

"Good," she smiled, "Sam and Dean'll be happy to hear that."

His grin faltered and they stared at each other. No words were spoken for a minute, no words could justifiably explain their shared thoughts, an understanding lingered in the silence between them. John's expression was saddened and Morgan was surprised she didn't feel guilty for causing that look to cross over the face of a dead man who had long accepted the life he'd lived. Part of her wanted to blame him for the torture she'd endured, for the pain Sam and Dean had been forced through even before John's death, and for the brother she'd never met to be locked forever in a cage with an archangel, banished to the deepest pit of Hell. Part of her wanted to curl up in his arms and never let go.

"Tell them I'm sorry," John broke the quiet, "Please, tell your brothers," his words trailed off as he looked away.

"They know, Dad," Morgan assured him, continuing when his eyes met hers again, "I will, but they know."

"I made a lotta mistakes," she wasn't sure if John was talking to her or just out loud, but listened, "Especially with Dean. He was a perfect kid, except he never got to be one. That was my fault."

"What else were you gonna do?" Morgan found her tone a bit challenging and, according to his raised eyebrow, so did her Dad, "You're with their Mom up there, so you know why the first yellow-eyed demon came. I've just heard stories, but, Dad, there was a universe shifting, monumental plan that literally surrounded Sam and Dean. What the hell could you've done different to change that?"

John scoffed lightly and nodded, "And now you remind me of Sam with that smart-aleck reasoning."

Morgan smirked and offered a tiny shrug, "I'm not wrong, though."

"I could'a been less of a jackass, sometimes," he said.

"I've heard," she scoffed lightly.

"Oh, yeah?" John inclined his head, but his expression was amused, "Your brothers talkin' crap?"

"No, never!" Morgan shook her head adamantly, now her Dad looked confused.

"Who then?" there was no amusement in his question.

She didn't know what to say, but her Dad reminded her too much of Dean to think she was going to be able to avoid the question and took a moment before saying, "You remember Daniel Elkins?"

John's brow furrowed, "Yeah, I knew him well before he died. Why?"

"Ever know his son?" she asked.

"Bill?" John looked even more lost, "Met him twice, barely the second time. Why?"

"I, uh," Morgan couldn't believe this is where the only conversation she would ever have with her father had turned, "I know his son, Bryan. I don't think Bill was a big fan'a yours."

"Doesn't surprise me," John scoffed, "But small world, huh? Where'd you meet Dan Elkins' grandson?"

"Uh, school," she said slowly, watching his reaction, unsurprised when his eyes narrowed.

"From what this Castiel told me you've got a price on y'r'head," he said firmly, "Bein' out in the open every day, unprotected like that is," her Dad growled exactly like Dean when he was frustrated, "your brothers know better-"

"I'm not in school anymore," Morgan interrupted.

"Oh," John's expression changed instantly, "Because of this Dagon?"

"First, because of the vampires," she shrugged.

"Vampires?" his eyes went wide, "There's vampires after you too?"

"No, we got them," she shook her head, "Alpha too. But they came to my school looking for Bryan-"

"The Elkins kid?" John confirmed.

"Yeah," Morgan nodded, silently thinking 'the Elkins kid' was better than 'pancake boy'.

"He's okay?" John asked.

"Yeah," she nodded again, but stopped and smirked sadly, "Got his Mom, though."

"Poor kid," he said with honest sadness, "Bill died a few years before Dan 'n me. Hunters don't tend t'have close, extended families."

"No, he didn't," Morgan stopped, knowing her words were stupid and she should just keep them to herself, but she said them anyway, "He didn't have anyone, or anywhere to go."

John inclined his head and stared at her, his expression completely blank, waiting for her to say something incriminating, but when she didn't, he asked, "Where'd he go, Morgan?"

"Here," she couldn't help a small reflex in her shoulders or the grin on her face.

"Is this young man your boyfriend?" her Dad crossed his arms, lowering his head a little as he stared at her and Morgan could have burst out laughing at how identical every movement was to Dean, but that she managed to control.

"Maybe, sorta," she shrugged intentionally this time.

"Yes or no?" John sighed.

"Kinda yes," Morgan admitted with a dramatic grimace.

"Your brothers let your boyfriend move in?" he asked slowly, like he was deeply considering each word.

"It's complicated," she assured him, "and it's not just him, Claire's been with us for months and now Garth 'n his son Channing after his wife Bess got killed by her crazy, cult werewolf cousins and-"

"Werewolf cousins?" John clarified and Morgan nodded, "So this kid, with the weird name, is a wolf?"

"Yeah, so's Garth," Morgan told him pointedly, "he's a hunter 'n he got bit, but he still hunts, maybe even better now with that sense'a smell."

"There's  _two_  werewolves sleeping down the hall from my children?" John asked.

"Garth is a hunter," Morgan repeated, giving him the same challenging eyes he was giving her, "and Channing is two. Trust me, Dad, of the company we sometimes have to keep, the few who are invited to stay here aren't anyone to be worried about."

"Then who should I be worried about?" John asked, his hands moving to his hips, making himself look bigger and Morgan understood how this man easily intimidated her brothers, probably everyone he ever crossed paths with.

"Depending on how long I've been gone," she said, again, unsure why she was saying the words before they pushed passed her lips, "the King of Hell might still be around and," Morgan's eyes went wide and she felt guilt pass through her nauseously, whispering her next word, "Rowena."

"The king of what now?" John growled.

"Shit," Morgan muttered under her breath, she'd forgotten about Rowena.

John made a forceful, throat clearing sound, "Morgan, what's wrong?"

"The witch who was helping me," she breathed her words in terror, "I don't know, Dagon, she might've gotten Rowena!"

"Can we back up to the King of Hell thing?" he asked.

"It's his Mother," Morgan tried to explain, "she's a witch, she let me tandem her power and then," a sinking feeling washed over Morgan, remembering the moment Dagon was pulling her from herself in the dark basement and the spell she'd used to flee, "I took some, I used her powers to get  _here_."

"You're losin' me, kid," John said, exactly as Dean would've.

"Rowena is Crowley's Mother," she began frantically, "he's the King of Hell, and as much as he likes me I doubt that'll matter if I got his Mother's soul stuck with that yellow-eyed bitch-"

"Morgan," he interrupted, waiting until she looked at him before he continued, "That Castiel knew what happened. Something about scrying a werewolf to find that demon, right?" Morgan nodded slowly, "He said you'd held on too long, that's how you got stuck, didn't mention another witch, but how else could he have known?"

Morgan thought about that for a moment and felt herself relax a bit, "You're probably right."

"Usually am," John grinned and Morgan rolled her eyes, "And you, little girl, have got a mouth on you."

"Family trait," she smirked.

John scoffed, shaking his head, "So, what was that about the King of Hell liking you?"

"Crowley," she nodded, "He's really not a bad guy, well, I mean, he's a bad guy, but not to me, not to us."

"So, your brothers are friends with this demon too?" John's expression hardened.

"I wouldn't say friends," Morgan shrugged, "More, acquaintances for mutual benefit. There's been a lotta evil in the world since you've been gone, there's more gray area than anything."

"And let me guess," he sighed, "Being a witch, you have a lotta sympathy for that gray area."

"I am the gray area," she countered.

John looked at her sadly for a moment before taking a few steps and pulling her into his arms, "You're all goodness, Sweetheart, I don't know how," he sighed regretfully and squeezed her a bit tighter, "That day still haunts me. I wish I could go back and find you, I don't know if your Mother cast a spell on me or if I was just that obsessed at the time, neither would surprise me, but I never stopped hating myself for leaving Maywood that day-"

"Dad," she shook her head, "she'd've killed you if you'd found out, if you tried to take me-"

"What?" he chuckled a bit, "Y'don't think your old man's as tough as your brothers?"

Morgan smiled, "They got it from somewhere."

"So did you," he kissed her hair and Morgan leaned into his chest again, "Hey," he patted her back and Morgan glanced up at his earnest expression, "Does your boyfriend really live here?"

"He got attacked by the vampires," she explained, "we brought him here to heal, and well, this is what he wants, he wants to hunt. Him 'n Claire are kinda, learning from Sam 'n Dean. They weren't especially thrilled about it to begin with, but, he's really a good guy."

John nodded, seeming almost satisfied, "Elkins was, I imagine his grandson would be too. But, uh, they keepin' an eye on him anyway?"

"Dean especially," Morgan smiled.

"Good," her Dad grinned.

"No questions about the King of Hell?" she asked, stifling a giggle.

"Plenty," he chuckled, "and about more than that, but, it's not what I'm gonna waste this time with you over, I trust your brothers."

"They'll love to hear that," Morgan said, happy tears glistening in her eyes.

"So, lets get you home," his voice was sad despite his smile, "Where's this spell we need?"

_**I would love to hear what you think and thank you so much for reading =)** _


	20. Chapter 20

_**Thank you to my wonderful reviewers, you are seriously the only light I have some days. Not to cry about my life cause we ALL have shit to cry about, but I work an extremely thankless job and am often just treated like shit by customers and co-workers, it was like I never got a break until I found this world of fanfic. Just know every time you leave a comment you made me smile and I probably just got hung up on so that smile really helps =)** _

_**Ok enough about me, you don't care and I know that and that's okay ;)** _

_**Happy reading!** _

Sam tossed the pink journal on the library table, following Dean from the library, Morgan still unconscious in her oldest brother's arms. Bryan watched them leave, absently removing his arm from Claire's shoulders when she stepped away. His stomach was twisting with guilt, nausea threatening the back of his throat and no amount of rubbing his palms against his jeans would remove the sweat.

"I shouldn't've let her do that," Bryan breathed to himself, not even aware he'd actually spoken the words until Claire whipped her gaze at him.

"We don't know what's happening. Okay?" Claire growled, "Dagon doesn't have her, we know she got away from,  _that_. Just, she's gonna be fine, she's always fine."

"Hope you're right," Bryan smirked, moving around her towards the library steps.

"I am," Claire pushed passed him roughly.

Bryan watched the blonde jog down the stairs, over the threshold of the hallway the Winchesters had disappeared into minutes earlier, leaving him alone in the library. He picked up the pink journal, flipping through a few pages of tiny, scrawling cursive, almost none of which he could make out and some in languages Bryan didn't even recognize. He set it back on the table while gazing slowly at the packed bookshelves and found himself more overwhelmed than he had been since arriving at the bunker.

His father, and grandfather especially, had been skilled hunters, far above average with the knowledge and secrets of generations. But the massive volumes of ancient lore squeezed together on the shelves around him made the 150 years of Elkins hunters seem trifling. 'In over his head' was a laughable understatement, Bryan was drowning.

Each step he took down the stairs was slow, weighted by distraction, guilt and anxiety. Staring at the hallway leading to the bedrooms, Bryan was absorbed with dread, but forced his feet down the empty corridor.

"Dean, that's not gonna work," he heard Sam through Morgan's open bedroom door.

"It can't hurt, Sam," the oldest growled.

Just before he reached the bedroom, with no intention of entering, Garth appeared at the end of the hall and grinned at Bryan as he approached.

"Boy's gettin' hard to put down," he chuckled, "What'd I miss?"

Bryan gaped at him a moment, unsure how to explain the last half hour of chaos and terror. Garth's rare grin dissolved into concern, but, before he could inquiry further, turned his gaze into Morgan's open bedroom and paled.

"What happened?" Garth whispered, inching to the doorway.

"She got stuck," Sam answered after a few moments and a nervous sigh.

"Stuck?" Garth stepped into the room, and Bryan followed, "What does that mean?"

"We really don't know Garth," Dean snapped, then took a deep breath, his head bowed over his sister as he sat next to her on the bed, "She's in the veil."

Garth's knees buckled, but Sam quickly stepped in with a hand on Garth's shoulder, clarifying his older brother's statement.

"She's not dead," Sam assured the werewolf, "It's a spell to let her conscious walk the spirit world, she's alive, but she's, stuck there or somethin', we don't know."

Garth nodded, breathing heavily, "How do we get her back?"

"Cas is workin' on it," Sam said.

"I just don't get it," Dean said suddenly, shaking his head over Morgan before turning to the group in her room, "Morgan, Rowena, they were both sure Dagon wouldn't sense her. I get the bitch is powerful, but that connection, it just doesn't make sense. Lucifer at least popped into her dreams when he was chasin' her, so what the hell? There weren't any signs!"

"Yeah there was," Bryan grumbled angrily, again only realizing he'd spoken aloud when all eyes turned to him.

"Got somethin' t'share with the class, kid?" Dean's eyes were seething.

Bryan glanced at Claire's scowl briefly before making himself meet the oldest Winchester's eyes, "She had a nightmare."

"When?" Dean barked, on his feet in a second.

"Last night," Bryan admitted, "she wouldn't wake up, I mean, she did, but it took a minute. She, uh, she said she was fine-"

"Clearly!" Dean gestured angrily at the unconscious, young woman.

"I'm sorry!" Bryan insisted, "She asked me not to say anything, I didn't think-"

"No shit!" Dean yelled.

"Dean!" Claire jumped next to Bryan, her shoulders squared on the older man, "Neither of us mentioned it, Bryan wasn't alone in this! When I walked in his room with her like  _that_ , it wasn't like the hotel in Colorado, she came back and said she was fine!"

Dean's tongue pushed against the inside of his bottom lip, his eyes on the ceiling before narrowing on Claire and Bryan, growling through gritted teeth, "Who's room?"

Bryan's stomach dropped to his knees while the nausea he'd been fighting pushed a little acid into his dry mouth. He knew he should run as Dean took two long strides towards him, but Bryan's boots were glued to the floor, until Dean roughly shoved him over the threshold and into the hallway.

"Nothing happened!" Bryan exclaimed the moment his voice returned, trying to maneuver from Dean's firm grasp, but his back slammed against a wall and he just braced for the anticipated blows.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, pushing his brother back with a hand on Dean's chest, the other on Bryan's, but the young man couldn't get any closer to the wall, "We've got other shit to deal with right now! We need to start researching  _anything_  that might help if Cas's plan doesn't work."

Dean breathed heavily, scowling at his brother, then Bryan and repeated shifting his gaze twice more before growling at Bryan, "This ain't fuckin' over."

Sam's hand was still on Bryan's chest, keeping him against the wall, but not as forcefully as Dean, while the oldest stalked down the hall to the library. He tried to slide away, but Sam pushed hard and turned a terrifying glare on Bryan.

"I'm not savin' your ass," Sam growled, "you're just not a priority right now."

"Sam, I swear, nothing-" Bryan tried.

"Don't," Sam warned, "don't try 'n tell me my little sister was in your bed 'n nothin' happened! Trust me, the second I can focus on  _you_ , Dean's gonna have to wait his turn."

Sam pushed Bryan into the wall as he turned back into Morgan's room, Claire moved out of his way quickly, staring wide-eyed at Bryan.

"I am so-" but Claire's apology halted abruptly as he stalked down the hall.

Bryan kicked his door shut, releasing an angry growl while his fists pumped the air over his head. A sob escaped his lips, but Bryan inhaled sharply, stifling another cry and wiping his damp cheeks. He grabbed his army sack from the floor by the dresser, kicking the basket of clothes towards the bed as he tossed the bag on it and quickly started packing everything that was his. It didn't take long.

He'd taken only what he needed when they'd returned to his home and laid him Mom to rest. His Dad's old army bag and another large duffel of priceless possessions were all he had left, the duffel he'd hardly unzipped. He pulled on his Dad's old jean jacket over a hoody, pulling his car keys from his pocket and jiggling them in his hand before shoving them into the same spot, then shrugged both bag straps on his shoulders before stepping towards the door.

His hand paused on the handle. Morgan was unconscious with an unpredictable future, Claire was scared and angry, and sad. He couldn't leave. With a heavy sigh, Bryan dropped his bags to the floor, sitting hard on the bed and running his hands roughly over his short hair before holding his head with the heels of his palms pressed into his closed eyes, trying not to cry.

A knock on his door made him look up, swiping his forearm across his nose as he sniffled, "Yeah?"

"Bryan, it's Garth," the man's soft voice reached his ears, "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure, Garth," Bryan answered and Garth entered, leaning against the door after he closed it gently.

"You okay?" Garth's sad smirk was laced with genuine concern.

"Yeah," Bryan nodded, but something about Garth's honest eyes made a whimper pass his lips, "No."

"What happened last night?" the question wasn't accusatory, Garth really wanted to hear Bryan out, "I wouldn't get involved, but, y'know, my kid was here too."

Bryan nodded, "I'm sorry," he said inherently, meeting Garth's eyes as he continued, "I was helpin' her get Channing to sleep, we brought him in here 'cause she didn't wanna be too far away if he woke up, 'n sleepin' in your room was, kinda-"

"Weird," Garth offered with a small grin, "I get it."

"Nothin' happened," Bryan insisted again, "Channing was in here, y'know, we wouldn't, it was just, convenient, y'know."

"And the adults were gone so why not," Garth shrugged, chuckling when Bryan opened his mouth to argue, "Bryan, I believe ya, I do. And I don't blame ya either, really."

"Thanks," Bryan nodded his appreciation, but was on guard for an upcoming 'but'.

"You goin' somewhere?" Garth jerked his head at the packed bags on the floor.

"Was thinkin' about it," Bryan admitted.

"And now?" Garth asked.

"Seems like a bad time to take off," Bryan scoffed lightly, "Might as well let Sam 'n Dean break my legs first."

Garth expelled a short laugh while grimacing a bit and nodding, "Let me talk to 'em, they're scared to death right now, hell I don't even know half'a what's goin' on and I'm frickin' terrified, I can't even imagine where their heads are at," Bryan nodded in agreement and Garth continued, "Or yours," Bryan raised his damp eyes to the man, "Bryan, you're a good guy, I might not know you well, but I can just tell, and I know the last thing you want is for Morgan to get hurt."

"Of course," Bryan said, "I love her."

Garth's eyebrows raised, "Yeah?"

The words had simply spilled out of his mouth, but Bryan knew they were true and set his gaze on Garth, "Yes, very much."

"Then I know nothin' happened," Garth smiled, continuing when Bryan scrunched his eyebrows at him, "Love makes you patient, 'cause its not about you," his gaze dipped to floor as he muttered the next words, "It's about them."

Bryan nodded, "Yeah. I'd never do anything she didn't want," he expelled a short scoff, "Hell, I've stopped myself from doin' stuff she  _did_  want."

"I bet," Garth chuckled, taking a few steps into the room and leaning against the dresser, "And I know you'd never do anything intentional to hurt her, or let her get hurt if you could help it. But, you should've told Sam 'n Dean about her dream, or at least made sure she did before she looked in on that."

"I know," Bryan sighed, dropping his head in his hands and pushing his fingers roughly through his hair before staring earnestly at Garth, "But, she's so, just-"

"Stubborn, righteous, with the ability to convince you to trust her with a couple'a words?" Garth asked with a knowing, raised eyebrow.

"Sounds like you're familiar," Bryan scoffed.

"She's a Winchester," Garth shrugged and Bryan nodded his head to the side in agreement, "You think those jerks aren't the same way?"

Bryan couldn't help chuckling at Garth calling Sam and Dean 'jerks', he wasn't wrong, though there was a silent understanding between both of them that they had every right at the moment to be on edge.

"But y'know what else they're good at?" Garth grinned, "Surviving. Morgan's strong, she's gonna get outta this, like I said, I barely even understand what's goin' on, but I'll tell ya, her brothers've come back from the dead and worse. She's gonna come back."

Bryan nodded slowly, "I hope y'r'right."

"I'll be surprised if I'm not," Garth assured him.

A moment of silent appreciation was interrupted by a shrill cry from the other side of the wall and Garth sighed before pushing off the dresser.

"That's my cue," he said, but turned with his hand on the doorknob, "You're a good man, Bryan. Don't do anything stupid."

Bryan's eyebrows raised reflexively and had no opportunity to respond before Garth shut the door, leaving him alone again. He had hope Garth was right, but Bryan still felt terror contracting painfully in his chest, while regret and guilt weighed heavily in his thoughts. Morgan was never going to tell her brothers about the dream, he'd known it the moment she'd asked him not to say anything, yet Bryan hadn't insisted or broken his promise, and now her body was lying motionless in her room, waiting for the young witch to find her way back.

Doubt continued to pelt the forced hope he was trying to focus on and Bryan couldn't help the lump of culpability rising in his throat, snatching for the wastebasket next to the nightstand. His emotions manifested into a foamy version of the lunch he'd eaten hours before, bubbling grotesquely on top of a few tissues and an empty toothpaste box. Bryan took a deep breath after raising his face from the putrid aroma emanating from the trashcan, setting it to the side as he stood on shaky legs and turned the faucet on cold.

He splashed his face with water, rubbing his lips and cupping his hands to take a large sip, swirling it in his mouth and spitting hard into the sink, then repeated the process three times before swallowing the ice-cold liquid. Bryan's throat was still sore, still tight from the fear he knew wouldn't leave him, no matter how many times he vomited.

Another soft knock reached his ears and Bryan looked in the mirror as Claire entered, closing the door behind herself.

"Please don't kick me out," her dry tone was a bad cover for the sadness in her voice.

"I won't," Bryan said, turning and crossing his arms while leaning against the sink.

"Bryan," Claire began pleadingly, her bright eyes betraying her recently wiped tears, "you know I would never, ever, mean to do that. Please know that. I am so fucking beyond sorry," then a sob escaped her lips, "and I'm scared," Claire put her arms around herself as tears leaked down her cheeks, "my best friend, I don't know what to do, but I can't do anything anyway," she was almost hyperventilating and Bryan crossed the room in two quick strides, pulling Claire into his arms, "I'm so sorry!"

"It's not your fault, Claire," he said, squeezing her a little, "It's not your fault."

He wasn't sure what else to say, but her crying got worse and Bryan just held her tightly, resting his chin on her head and making an occasional shushing noise, hoping it was comforting. Her guilt only added to his, however, hating that on top of the near-worst case scenario Morgan was currently in, Claire was ravaged with self-deprecation for letting slip his bad decision with the young Winchester sister.

She pulled her arms from him and Bryan took a step back, letting Claire wipe her eyes and compose herself. The blondes watery gaze landed on his prepared luggage and narrowed as her attention whipped to Bryan.

"I'm not goin' anywhere," he promised before she could say a word.

"You were gonna though?" she growled.

"I freaked out," he admitted, "but I'm okay now, well, I'm not, but I'm not leavin'."

Claire nodded, seeming to accept his honesty, "I really didn't mean to-"

"I know," Bryan stopped her repeated apology, "It's fine, really," he scoffed lightly, "Not the first beating I've ever had, not gonna be the last either."

"They're not gonna beat you," she shook her head adamantly.

Bryan chuckled, "Twenty bucks says y'r'wrong."

Claire smirked sadly, "Yeah, well, you're not goin' down alone. I was in here when you woke her up, hell I prob'ly know more about her dream than you do."

"Pretty sure that's not what Sam 'n Dean are pissed about," Bryan said.

"Bryan, they're scared," Claire said confidently, "and pissed, but its not just at you, hell I bet most of it's not. Morgan's gonna come outta this 'n everything's gonna calm down, it will."

"I hope you're right," Bryan sighed, "but I'm not gonna blame either of 'em for taking a few swings."

Claire slapped him sharply across the face faster than he could've anticipated even if he'd seen it coming. Bryan stared with wide eyes, his hand instinctually finding his cheek, but it didn't hurt, just stung a little.

"Y'better?" Claire inclined her head, looking at him impatiently.

"What the hell?" he near chuckled, a bit shocked at her reaction.

"Just thought it would help, seein' you're beggin' for a beat down," Claire shrugged.

Bryan expelled a short bout of laughter while shaking his head, "Screw you."

Claire grinned smugly, but, before she could retort, the door flew open. Dean's expression had hardly changed and he glowered at them with angry, green eyes.

"Both'a you, library," he said, pushing off the handle and leaving the door open as he walked away, finishing with a barking, "Now!"

Bryan and Claire shared a nervous glance before hurrying into the hallway and following a good distance behind the oldest Winchester. Dean stopped at Morgan's door, but jerked his head for them to keep walking. Again, the younger two looked at each other with anxious confusion, neither sure what they were supposed to be doing or looking for in the library, but continued down the hall regardless.

Large books slapping the table hard reached Bryan's ears before they stepped into the open room and could see Sam scouring the shelves and literally tossing the huge texts onto the nearest table.

"Either'a you read anything but English?" Sam asked without looking at them.

"A little Latin, but we've got translator apps," Claire answered.

"Bryan, you read any Latin?" Sam challenged, his eyes not even blinking as he stared at the young man.

"No, sir, some Spanish, but," Bryan let his answer trail off, Sam had turned back to a set of shelves and clearly wasn't listening.

A fleeting image of himself soaring away from the bunker in his Grand National crossed Bryan's mind, he could hear the engine roar as his foot sank the gas pedal to the floor, but he couldn't leave. Until they kicked him out, Bryan wouldn't leave, he couldn't with Morgan stuck in the spirit plane, but he longed to be free of the eggshells under his feet.

"Start readin'," Sam ordered quickly, pulling another book from its shelf and opening it in his arms.

Bryan jogged up the stairs with Claire less enthusiastically behind him and grabbed the first book he could reach.

"What are we looking for?" Bryan asked timidly.

"Access," Sam said simply, "A way to break in, or break down, the veil."

Claire and Bryan nodded and set to work, each with an ancient book open in front of them and their phones ready in hand for the many translations they were about to encounter. Bryan considered for a minute how strange it was to be looking for a way to weaken a barrier between their world and the veil, the residents of which had always been top prey for hunters. Though supposed it wasn't completely unusual, at least not compared to his other experiences during the few weeks he'd been living with the Winchesters.

* * *

"It's not here," Morgan said defeatedly after exerting an extreme amount of effort just to move about the room, "This isn't, real, it's not home."

The book shelves started to fuzz and the floor was disappearing under a cloud of fog, but a sharp finger snap stole Morgan's attention from her fading surroundings.

"Don't quit," John said firmly, "This is as real as you make it."

Morgan stared at him, but it only took a moment for her Dad's challenging expression to make her gaze drop as she took a deep breath. Opening her eyes, she found the library floor returning under her feet and grinned at John.

"Got it?" John raised an eyebrow as he smiled and Morgan nodded, "Good. So, what's the plan?"

"Gotta find this book," Morgan said, looking around the room again and pointing at the bare table next to her favorite arm chair, "It was there, I had a bunch of 'em I was lookin' at, but it's not, this isn't-"

John cleared his throat hard, "Don't start that crap. Stop goin' backwards 'n focus on what you need to do. Got it?"

Morgan heard Dean in her father's voice and found herself smiling as she answered, "Yes, sir."

Closing her eyes, Morgan focused her thoughts on Dean, not a memory, but an attempt to find him. Where was he? Morgan filled with a strange, happy calm as her brother's face became clear in her mind.

A hand squeezing on her shoulder made Morgan open her eyes and they widened reflexively, it was a strange sight seeing herself unconscious on her bed. Dean, however, sitting on a chair next to her, his head bent over his arms leaning gently against her side, brought the sting of tears to her eyes. She glanced at their Dad and saw his broken expression, stained with remorse, as he stared at his as distraught oldest son.

John broke his concentration after a moment and turned to Morgan, forcing a grin and squeezing her shoulder again before stepping towards Dean. Morgan felt uncomfortable, but she couldn't exactly leave them alone and didn't even consider taking her and John from the room, this was a moment he needed. Dean wasn't crying, but he had been, his damp face still contorted in a defeated grimace.

For several, long seconds, Morgan waited expectantly for John to do something, but he slowly circled around the back of Dean's chair, staring at his son. Dean didn't stir until his father's hand touched his shoulder and the anguish on his face melted just before he took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I am so proud of you," John said.

Morgan stifled a gasp as Dean's head raised a little and one hand slowly found his shoulder John's was resting on. Renewed hope filled her heart knowing her brother sensed their father's presence. She wasn't sure why it made her more hopeful, but it did, all while a deep sadness surrounded her watching the pair be so close, yet so incredibly far away.

"Dad," Dean whispered, his eyes shifting between Morgan's unconscious body and the ceiling, hand still grasping the same shoulder as John, "if you can hear me, please, I need her back. I can't," his voice broke and Dean dipped his head before sniffling hard, "We can't lose her."

"I'm not gonna let that happen," John's reassurance shouldn't have reached Dean's ears, but Morgan hoped it had, convinced she saw a small upturn in the corner of her brother's lips.

"Dean!" Sam's distant bellow turned everyone's attention to the door and Morgan's heart skipped as Dean strode directly towards her and through her as he pulled the door open and stuck his head out.

"What?!" he barked down the hall.

"Think we found somethin'!" Sam yelled impatiently, "C'mere!"

Dean sighed, turning back to Morgan lying on the bed, then out the hallway and back to his sister, hesitation etched into his expression.

"I'm fine," Morgan urged, even though he couldn't hear her, "just go."

"Hey, Garth!" Dean called into the hall.

"Oh my God, Dean, I'm fiiiiine," Morgan insisted with rolling eyes.

"Hey," John sighed, "leave your brother alone."

She never thought she'd have had her Dad around to side against her in a sibling squabble and couldn't help a small smile.

"Yeah, Dean?" Garth sounded close and a few moments later appeared in the doorway with Channing on his hip, Garth's phone firmly in his chubby grasp.

Dean sighed heavily again, "If you're not busy, could I get'cha to sit in here with her for a minute? I'm sorry, I just-"

"Dean, of course," Garth shook his head, "Go see what Sam's got. Y'don't mind I got him do you?"

"No," Dean grinned at Channing.

"Was Dora doing?" his tiny voice and simple question made Dean's brief grin fall.

"She's just takin' a nap, buddy," Garth answered quickly, "We're gonna hang out with her in case she wakes up."

"No nap. Play," Channing shook his head.

"I'm workin' on it, kid," Dean mumbled and slipped passed Garth towards the library.

Morgan turned to her Dad after Dean disappeared, unsurprised to find his attention on the pair of werewolves, but was surprised to find his eyes smiling at the little boy. Though not nearly as shocked as she was seeing Channing smile at him.

"Hi," Channing stared at John as Garth sat in the chair after pulling it a few feet away from Morgan's bed.

Garth turned, staring in the corner and at the walls, through and around the invisible Winchester patriarch, "What'cha lookin' at buddy?"

Morgan met her Dad's eyes and they shared a stunned gaze before returning their attention to the little boy, still smiling at John.

"Tha's Dora," Channing pointed at the bed.

John nodded, "I know, I'm keepin' an eye on her 'cause I'm her Daddy."

Channing held his tiny finger to his lips and spit on it a little, "Sees seeping."

"I know," Garth chuckled, gently turning Channing by the chin to look at him, but the toddler snapped his neck back to John, "Hey, c'mon, kid,  _what_  are you lookin' at?"

"Dora's Dayee," Channing pointed at John and Morgan laughed at Garth's jaw open, palling expression.

"Mor-gan's Daddy?" Garth managed after several failed attempts to force sound from his lips and Channing just nodded earnestly, "Uh-huh," Garth expelled a short chuckle and shook his head, "Boy you crazy," Channing giggled when his Dad kissed the top of his head, but continued staring at John.

"Dad," Morgan gestured out the door, "I might be able to find that spell now."

He smiled and waved at Channing, who waved back and watched John leave. Garth was clearly confused and a little nervous, shifting his eyes around the seemingly empty room.

**_Hope you enjoyed and can't wait to hear what you think!_ **


	21. Chapter 21

**First things first- Don't expect me to start updating this quickly again, this was just a good week ;)**

**HAPPY BIRTHDAYS to Britestar, Mr. Jensen Ackles, little Isabella Shepard, welcoming Jeffery Dean Morgan and Hilary Burton's baby girl and anyone else I may have forgotten- Happy fricking birthday I hope it was/is great!**

_**I know there's some confusion going on, but I hope you all trust that I always explain eventually, sometimes in far more detail then necessary, but don't worry, I've done my research with episodes like "Death Takes a Holiday" "Death's Door" "Of Grave Importance" and several others that touch on this realm and taking from canon, if Bobby can convince a manifestation of Rufus to help him run from his reaper using ingredients in his imaginary living room while in a coma then I think I'm safely within the possibilities of Supernatural.** _

_**Enjoy and have a great weekend!** _

Sam flipped through pages much faster than Claire, who was twice as fast as Bryan, who had never hated Latin so much in his life. They weren't the research texts he'd become used to, able to read most of the information and only having to translate occasionally, magic evidently required obscure, even dead, languages. Early in their search, Bryan had let a soft, frustrated sigh escape, but the scowl Sam gave him encouraged complete silence from the young man after that, even muffling his breathing as much as he could.

Claire made a suggestion, having found a spell related to raising spirits, but Sam quickly pointed out its use was to capture a ghost and force it to do the caster's bidding.

"You don't wanna mess with that," Sam said simply, "Ghosts don't appreciate bein' used 'n the spell won't last forever."

The library was quiet again for a while, just the sound of flipping pages and Claire's occasional gasp, followed instantly by an adamant head shake before she turned to the next spell.

Bryan was about halfway through translating the fourth spell he'd reached, the first three he'd only had to understand their objective before realizing they would not be helpful, but this one at least mentioned spirts. It seemed to be séance related, at least close to the target they were trying to hit. The sentence he was working on translating finally made sense and Bryan stared at the words, afraid to draw attention to himself, unsure how many more scowls he could take from Sam before he snapped.

_Quod perierat receperint, claustra dissolveret, iterum autem videbo vos_

_Welcome the lost, dissolve the barrier, we will see you again_

Bryan kept his eyes on his messy translation, sure it couldn't be as perfect as he assumed and began deciphering the next line, painfully slowly.

_O, spiritus, daemones torto animarum ex hesterno, ostende nobis vosmet_

_Oh, spirits, demons the twisted souls of yesterday, show us yourselves_

"Shit," he whispered, though not quietly enough.

"What'cha got?" Sam's hard gaze was on him in a second and Bryan's mouth went dry.

"I don't, I'm not sure," he admitted, hating how uncomfortable he felt in his own skin and wished Sam would stop looking at him, "Probably nothin' helpful."

"Let's see," Sam nodded at the book and Bryan turned it towards him, he didn't bother offering his disheveled notes.

Sam narrowed his eyes at the spell, nodding a little and his lips moved as he mumbled to himself. After a minute, he tapped the page hard with his finger and looked at Bryan with much less aversion than before.

"This could work," Sam scoffed almost happily.

Bryan's eyes widened with surprise, glancing at Claire in silent confirmation that she too had heard Sam, the blonde was already peering over the table at the open book.

"Isn't it," Bryan began timidly, "dark?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed, inclining his head a bit with a smirk, "but, we might be able to adjust it," he pulled the chair across from Bryan out, gathering the large text closer as he sat, "This was taken from another ritual and twisted for Satan worshipping."

"Satan, like Lucifer?" Claire asked, a note of fear in her tone.

"Yeah, but, not really," Sam shrugged, "Maybe that's who they were tryin' to contact, but most Satan worshipping doesn't work, and if they had something like this, well, even then they'd only maybe get the attention of some random demon who's bored. No, this is built off a séance ritual."

"Meaning?" Claire urged him to continue.

"Meaning," Sam continued, "its original purpose is to make contact with spirits, but unlike a normal séance that seeks a single person, it's a way to, well,  _dissolve the barrier_ ," he pointed at Bryan's notes, the corners of his mouth twitched upward as their eyes met and Bryan noticed a little relief on the weight in his gut.

"So, this is what we need?" Bryan asked.

"It's close enough," Sam nodded, "Just gotta figure out how to take out the demon parts."

"How're we gonna do that?" Claire asked.

"I'm gonna call Rowena for starters," Sam shrugged, standing as he pulled his phone from his pocket, "Keep lookin', this is good, but there might be somethin' else in one'a these."

Claire returned to the book open in front of her and Bryan grabbed another from the stack on the table, leaving the spell he'd found where Sam had been sitting. Sam jogged down the stairs with his phone pressed to his ear, but stayed in the open room, allowing Bryan to clearly hear half the conversation.

"Rowena, it's Sam. Where are you?" Sam asked and several moments later his tone became confused, and a little angry, "Where? What? Why?" Bryan and Claire looked at each other briefly before turning their attention simultaneously towards the stairs, "Well, can you get back here? We've got a spell-" Sam stopped talking abruptly and the younger two in the library shared another glance, "What'd you mean? Rowena! You can't just- Rowena! Rowena!" Sam's growl was accompanied by a slam that made Claire and Bryan jump a little in their seats.

Sam stomped up the stairs, tossing his phone on the table and grabbed the open text while landing hard in his seat.

"No Rowena?" Claire asked quietly.

"Fuck her," Sam grumbled.

"Sam?" Bryan knew he sounded as nervous as he felt, but continued when Sam raised his eyebrows to show he was listening, though kept his focus on the spell, "You said that's a modification for Satan worshippers right?" Sam nodded, his eyes still on the book in his lap, "Then, uh, do y'think the original might be around here, somewhere?"

Finally, Sam looked at him, his hard gaze softening into thoughtfulness and, after a few moments, returned to the book, checking the edges of the page while mumbling something before flipping to the back, scanning with his index finger and still muttering to himself. Bryan held his breath waiting for Sam to look up again, and, when he did, there was a smirk of eagerness on his face.

"I love these organized freaks," Sam expelled a short laugh, "Where's volume one?"

Claire and Bryan shuffled through the stack, tossing a few to the other side of the table when they weren't the desired text, but, when Claire checked the cover of the one she was currently working through, the hunt was over. Sam took the book she practically threw at him, flipping the pages deliberately towards the middle and then slowly fanning a few with his thumb. He laid the antique volume flat on his lap and Bryan couldn't miss the grin growing on Sam's face as his eyes darted back and forth across the page.

"Is that it?" Bryan couldn't help his excited question.

"Might work," Sam scoffed lightly, "Be helpful if we had a witch or a psychic to run it, but it's worth a shot."

"And this could get her back?" Claire's question was laced with nervous hope.

"It could make it easier for her," Sam said, "Only she can get herself back, but if we can weaken the wall she's gotta break through, it might help."

"Then let's do it," Bryan nodded curtly.

Sam offered the same downward jerk of his head, then turned towards the hallway entrance and took a deep breath before yelling, "Dean!"

Claire and Bryan both jumped a little from Sam's volume, despite expecting the barking call the moment they saw the man's labored inhale.

"What?!" Dean called back a few seconds later and a shiver trickled down Bryan's back.

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed, bellowing back, possibly louder than before, "Think we found somethin'! C'mere!"

"What'd we need?" Claire asked, leaning forward on the table to peer at the Latin inscription upside down.

"Nothin' we don't have," Sam said, his focus returned to the page, "Normal séance stuff, it's just a different symbol that needs to be drawn in, oh."

"Oh?" Claire's voice raised with her eyebrows.

"The ashes of a man long forgotten," Sam read.

"A dead guy?" Claire clarified and Sam nodded, "We've gotta drawn the séance symbol out of a dead guy's ashes?" again Sam nodded, "Gross."

"Long dead, right?" Bryan confirmed.

"Yeah," Sam glanced again at the inscription, "I'd say a stiff dead the last fifty or more years should do it."

"There's an old farmers' plot a few miles out the other side'a Lebanon," Bryan began, "Kids like to go there on Halloween, they say it's haunted, it ain't, but nobody's been buried there for more than forty years prob'ly."

Sam nodded slowly and checked his watch, "We should hurry, got a few hours before sunrise."

"I'll go," Bryan said, "Claire can help me, I know you guys don't wanna leave," he let his sentence trail off before saying Morgan's name.

"It'll take you guys too long alone," Sam shook his head, "I'll go, Dean can stay back."

"What the hell is Dean doin'?" Dean growled, emerging slowly from the library stairs.

"Hey, check this out," Sam stood, setting the first volume on the table and pushing it towards his brother, "It's a modified séance ritual. It's supposed to weaken the wall between the living world and the veil."

Dean blinked with surprise at the page, leaning over to get a closer look and nodding slowly, "Alright, let's do this."

"We're gonna head out to this cemetery Bryan knows about," Sam said and Bryan dropped his gaze when Dean turned his hard eyes on him, "Need the ashes of a  _long forgotten man_  for the base symbol."

"We don't have that?" Dean's question was so honest Bryan couldn't help a short laugh escaping, his ears burning when Dean scowled at him.

"A dead guy?" Sam's confusion at least assured Bryan he wasn't the only one taken aback.

"Ashes," Dean nodded, "I swear there's at least three urns in one'a those back storage rooms. Dead Men of Letters, what could be more long forgotten?"

"If you know where they are," Sam jerked his head down the stairs.

Dean nodded before turning to leave the library, "Good work, Sam."

"Actually, Bryan found it," Sam admitted.

Dean stopped, but didn't turn around, and made an agreeable grunting sound before descending the stairs and disappearing towards the garage.

Bryan's gut twisted and again he imagined himself accelerating away from the bunker, relieved of his constant discomfort.

"Claire," Sam said, "do you remember I showed you where those sage candles are?"

"Yeah, think so," Claire nodded, leaving the library at Sam's silent gesture to go get them.

"What can I do?" Bryan asked timidly.

Sam stared at him, seemingly fighting between anger and appreciation before finding himself somewhere in between, "You can tell me what happened, the truth."

Nausea returned to Bryan's throat, but he swallowed hard, forcing himself to take the unexpected opportunity to explain, "Nothing, no really, Sam, please," he started pleading when Sam rolled his eyes in disbelief, "She was havin' a hard time gettin' Channing to go down and she didn't wanna be all the way down the hall if he woke up, but sleeping in Garth's room was just, she didn't want to, it felt weird. So, we moved his crib thing into my room, we just cuddled, and kissed a little, but honest that's it, I swear."

"Why didn't you just move Channing into her room?" Sam asked.

Bryan's mouth gaped a moment before he grimaced, "I don'know, we didn't think about that."

Sam scoffed lightly, shaking his head and then staring hard into Bryan's eyes, "And nothin' happened?"

"No, sir, on my Mother," Bryan refused to even blink as he responded.

Sam nodded, but didn't continue. Bryan was sure it wasn't over, though.

"I'm gonna grab the rest of what we need, just stick around," Sam said, taking the book with him as he left the library.

Bryan returned to his seat, but, without a task, he was lost. Longing to run down the stairs, into the garage and take off in his car as fast as he could, but he had nowhere to go. Everyone he knew was either in the bunker or dead, he certainly wasn't going to drag any of the friends he'd made in Lebanon into the bullshit that was his life, so even the living might as well be dead. Or maybe it was him that might as well be dead.

He cradled his head in his hands with his elbows on his knees, trying to fight the swarm of tears flooding his eyes and the tingle in his nose, threatening very unmanly sobs. Everyone left him, they all died or got stuck in the ghost world or turned their back because they were never on his side anyway. His chest was tight, contracting with fear, dread and anxiety while he tried to fight the building explosion from escaping. Trying to focus on something happy and finding memories of his Mom crawling to the forefront of his mind.

"I wanna go home," a whimper passed his shivering lips and the last hold on his stoicism broke as Bryan muffled his sobs with his hands in the empty library.

* * *

Morgan wasn't sure if moving had gotten easier or if she had simply gotten used to the feeling, but her steps weren't as labored as they had been. With her Dad at her side, they walked into the hall and she pointed to the open door across from hers.

"That's Dean's room," Morgan said, turning her finger to the closed one next to her room, "that's Sam's."

John expelled a light scoff at Sam's shut door, "When Sam was seven he asked for a lockbox for his birthday. Kid was always worried about his brother gettin' into his stuff."

"I really can't blame him," she giggled.

"Wow," John peered into the kitchen as they passed, "Emeril Lagasse would be all over this."

"Who?" Morgan inclined her head at him.

"He's not a famous chef anymore?" John asked.

"Gordon Ramsey?" Morgan offered.

"Who?" John inclined his head at her.

"That's who Dean thinks he is when he cooks sometimes," Morgan smiled, "he doesn't call himself Ramsay, obviously, but I've caught him talking to himself in a crappy British accent, pretty sure that's what he's doin'."

John chuckled, "Yeah, he used to do that when he was a kid too, except it was James Smith."

They continued towards the open room, but both stopped when Sam started striding towards them.

"Sam," John breathed and Morgan looked at her father's suddenly broken face.

Sam moved right through them, continuing down the hallway as John watched with sad eyes.

"Dad," Morgan said, "you know they'd do anything to have you back, to just see you again, just, they love you, a lot."

John nodded, "And I did nothing to deserve it."

"Hey," she barked in her best impression of both him and Dean, earning a startled look, "If I don't get to be self-deprecating neither do you."

John laughed, "Okay, Brat, that's fair."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "You know they call me that?"

"What?" he asked.

"Brat," Morgan said.

"It fits," John smirked, chuckling and scissoring his fingers at the tongue she stuck out.

Her amusement disappeared, however, the moment they returned to the library. In the midst of the stacks of heavy books was Bryan, bent over on his seat, with his head buried in his hands. Morgan held back on the stairs, but, when John continued upward, she hurried to follow him, keeping her eyes on Bryan.

His shoulders shook and the words he whimpered broke Morgan's heart, "I wanna go home."

Reflexively, she moved towards him, but the hand she tried to rest on his shoulder moved through Bryan same as air. Morgan had never seen him break, even when his Mom had died, he hadn't crumbled into a mess of sobs, but he thought he was alone.

"This Bill Elkins' kid?" John asked.

"Bryan," Morgan nodded, surprised when Bryan looked up after she said his name, but he just sniffled hard and wiped his cheeks.

"How long ago did his Mom pass?" John stepped forward, putting a hand on Morgan's shoulder, keeping her from following Bryan as he walked to the other side of the table and opened another large book.

"A couple months ago," she said.

"Poor kid," John sounded genuinely sad for Bryan, "And he started hunting right after?"

"Yeah," Morgan nodded, "He came back here to heal up from the vampire attack-"

"He was attacked?" John interjected.

"Yeah, bad," she grimaced, "but, uh, Sam 'n Dean got there just in time. They'd already gotten his Mom though."

John nodded sadly, but narrowed his eyes a bit analytically at Bryan, "He's a big kid."

"Have you met your sons?" Morgan smirked and her Dad chuckled.

"Speaking of," John looked over Morgan's head, making her turn to see Dean walking through the open room with an old wooden crate.

Morgan saw Bryan tense out of the corner of her eye as her brother trudged up the stairs.

"What're you doin'?" Dean asked gruffly, setting the box on the other table that wasn't as crowded.

"Nothin'," Bryan mumbled.

"Well, that's helpful," Dean's comment was laced with nasty sarcasm.

Bryan winced, but took a breath and said insistently, "Dean, really, if I could tell you-"

"Kid, I don't wanna hear it," Dean said with calm anger, "I appreciate that you're helping, but I'm not quite ready to get over my sister bein' in your bed last night."

"What?!" John barked.

"Nothing happened!" Bryan and Morgan insisted simultaneously, taking a step back from their confronters.

John and Dean shared a scoff so alike Morgan couldn't help scowling at the brother that couldn't see her.

"Can this  _not_  be the focus?" she asked, wanting to leave the library, but couldn't, frustration building as Morgan realized she was trapped, "It's really hard to find this book already, and everyone's yelling, seriously, I need to concentrate."

"Little girl," her Dad growled, "if I could, I'd be concentratin' my hand on your ass."

"Yeah, well," Morgan mumbled, glaring at Dean, "if he knows, you can rest easy."

"Dean," Bryan's nervous tone took their attention, watching the young man shift his gaze from the intimidating older man and the floor as he spoke, "I'm sorry, I should've told you about her dream, I knew she wasn't gonna tell you. And we should've thought to put Channing in her room instead'a mine. I'm sorry, for everything."

Morgan really wished she could get them out of the library, even the fog would be preferable to the current situation. Her Dad's gaze was hot on the side of her head and Dean glared at Bryan, his thick arms crossed threateningly.

"The kid was in there?" Dean asked.

"She didn't wanna be far away from him 'n, well, I'm kinda better at the baby thing," Bryan shrugged, "but just 'cause she's never been around any."

"She ain't gonna be either," Dean growled.

"No, of course not," Bryan agreed adamantly, "Me either. Nothing happened, Dean I promise, we just talked, and kissed a little, but I swear that's it."

"Bryan," Dean sighed, dropping his arms and leaning on the back of a chair, "it's not that I don't believe you. I just don't care. All I care about right now is getting Morgan back to her body. After that, then I'll worry about how hard I'm gonna kick your ass."

Bryan nodded, his eyes staying on his boots. Morgan felt sick.

"Hey, I grabbed all the candles I could find," Claire announced, walking into the room with an overflowing cardboard box, a variety of candles poking out of the open top, "I wasn't sure which the sage ones were."

"It's fine," Dean said, taking the box from her as she reached the top of the stairs and set it next to the crate on the table.

Morgan looked at her Dad, surprised to find his expression calm.

"You gonna find this book or what?" he asked and she nodded, "What's it look like?"

"Small," Morgan used her hands to describe the size of the little journal, "and pink."

John expelled a short laugh, "Well, that shouldn't be hard."

She mostly ignored the bits of conversation happening between her brother and her friends while walking around the table and scrutinizing every inch she could see. So many texts were stacked and stumbled on each other it was hard to see what was underneath, but, as she rounded the other end, a flash of color caught her attention.

"Dad," she gestured him over while grabbing for the corner of the pink journal sticking out from underneath a leather-bound book, but, again, her hand slid right through the solid objects, and Morgan released an angry growl.

"Relax, you gotta concentrate," John said.

"Can  _you_  do it?" she asked bitterly, averting her challenging gaze when her father raised an unforgiving eyebrow.

"I'm new at this too, kiddo," John said simply, "we'll get it."

He reached for the journal heeding the same results, but instead of growling, John took a deep breath. Focusing his attention again, but kept his hand a few inches from the target. It was several moments, but Morgan gasped when the large text on top of the journal nudged slightly. No one in the room was paying attention and it hadn't moved enough to really earn any, but Morgan watched intently as her Dad took another breath and strained his concentration on the leather-bound obstacle.

"Alright, I think we've got everything we need," Sam said, jogging up the library stairs with the spell book in one hand and a tackle box of herbs in the other, the former he tossed directly on top of the book John was trying to move, effectively covering the pink journal from sight.

"Sam!" Morgan exploded with frustration and the book he'd just dropped fired from the table directly into Sam's back.

"Hey!" John's expression was a mix of incredulous amusement, "Do I really have to tell you not to throw books at your brother?"

"He's in my way," Morgan mumbled.

Her brother crumbled momentarily from the sudden shot between his shoulders, but recovered quickly turning with the others in the direction of Morgan and John. Their eyes darting around them, at the table and occasionally right where they were standing, every one of their faces confused and searching.

_**Love to hear your thoughts!** _


	22. Chapter 22

**_I've been absent and I have very little of the story to add right now, I'm sorry, but I think you should know why since several of you ask after me and I like to think you care. Please understand I'm healing, this is not an invitation for judgement on the situation. Last week, in the early hours of March 13th, one of my closest friends committed suicide. He was a wonderful person and I will cherish my memories with him while working through this intense anger, sadness and complete disbelief it's even real. I want him to know, if he ever wondered if he'd be missed, he very much is. With this in mind, knowing depression and suicide awareness are held close by much of the Supernatural fandom I just want to say this to anyone who might need to hear it- You are important, there are people who will fall apart, their worlds will end if you aren't in it with them and especially if the reason you're not there is because you made a decision you can never take back. I know what if feels like to want to die, to wish I didn't have to be me in the life I'm stuck in, and have even come close to that decision, but there was always that wonder of what will I miss, this is bad but can't it be better, can I hold on just a little longer in hopes something will change. And sometimes it did, sometimes it didn't, but I always found a way to remind myself I'm here and I'm not going to cut my own time short. I'm thankful my mind got there, but my friend suffered a long time and eventually, even that tiny optimism was gone. I hope with everything I have that he's not in pain anymore, but I wish he had any idea how much pain he'd leave behind. He loved to laugh and I thought of that while finishing this bit, I hope it makes you laugh. Nelson, this one's for you!_ **

"Anybody got an EMF reader?" Sam asked, hardly moving his eyes from where his father and sister were invisible to him while turning to the others, all shaking their heads.

"A ten-pound book just rocket launched into your spine," Dean nearly laughed, his eyes darting nervously from floor to ceiling at the end of the table, "What the hell do you need an EMF reader for?"

"Is it," Claire let her whispered sentence trail away.

"Morgan?" Dean asked after a moment of silence.

"Yes!" she yelled, but it clearly went unheard.

"Sweetie," her Dad put a hand on her shoulder, "Don't get mad."

"Why not?" Morgan scoffed, "That's how I moved the book."

"It's not the only way," John said firmly, "definitely not the best."

"Dean, you think?" Sam stepped forward, but still several feet from the end of the table where the soul of his father and aberration of his sister stood.

"Unless I've  _royally_  pissed off one'a those guys," the oldest gestured at the crate on the table, "I think it's our only option."

"You think?" Sam looked at his brother to complete his question, furrowing his brow and cocking his head to the side briefly.

Dean's eyes widened and he nodded, "Maybe, yeah."

"You two," Sam grabbed the book from the floor and handed it to Claire, "get this set up on the back table over there."

Bryan peered at the crate, "Does it matter which-"

"Pick a dead guy and go, kid," Dean growled, his eyes still moving around John and Morgan.

Bryan snatched an antique urn from the crate and followed Claire to the designated table. Morgan really wished she could asked what the hell they were doing, but more importantly, she wished she could tell them she needed the damn journal opened to the page about projectile scrying and the reversal spell that would take her home.

The idea was suddenly sad, the little time she'd gotten with her Dad would never be enough, and Morgan found herself childishly hoping he could come back with her instead of returning to heaven. There were no owed favors between her family and anyone with the power to bring John back to them, she knew better than to let the thought stay in her mind, but she did.

"Dad?" Dean stepped forward, his voice cautious.

Morgan watched as John closed his eyes and a soft breeze blew passed her brothers, ruffling through their hair. Sam and Dean took simultaneous steps back, looking at each other with fear and disbelief, while Morgan stared at her Dad, gaping.

"How did you do that?" she managed, hardly noticing her brothers stammering between themselves, "Dad, are you okay?"

John was certainly paler, even for a ghost and his eyes were still shut, but more painfully than in meditative concentration. After a moment, however, he nodded and forced a smile.

"I'm fine," his assurance had little confidence, but he covered it with a chuckle, "Never had so much respect for ghosts, this ain't easy."

Morgan and John's attention was directed to Sam bolting from the library, while Dean didn't falter his gaze from the end of the table.

"Dean," Claire said quietly and he turned his head slightly towards her, just enough to let her know he was listening, "I'm sorry, but, can you just check this?"

Morgan watched her brother sigh before scowling in her direction and pointing an aggressive finger while warning, "You throw somethin' at me I'm gettin' the rock salt."

John chuckled weakly and Morgan worried he seemed to be fading even more, but his grin still seemed confident.

"Smart, Sam," John nodded and she turned to her brother taking the stairs in leaps with a board game in his hands, but she caught  _OUIJA_  along one side as he flashed passed her.

"I know the theory," Morgan said, "but do those really work?"

"We're gonna find out, aren't we?" John smirked.

Sam was pulling the board and planchette onto the table, still shifting his gaze nervously towards where his father and sister stood.

"No crappy comments?" Sam paused for a moment, giving his brother a side-eyed look.

"Still makes me feel like a thirteen-year-old girl at a sleepover," Dean shrugged, picking up the triangle planchette and turning it before setting it on the board.

"Can't say I've ever felt like a teenage girl," Sam commented dryly, "but I'm glad you can admit that about yourself."

"Shut up," Dean muttered, though Morgan hardly heard him over John's laughter and her jaw dropped in awe as her brothers' attention snapped directly to where their father stood.

"Did you hear-" Sam inclined his head a little at Dean, his eyes trained in a tight circle right where John was grinning.

"Somethin'," Dean confirmed, never looking away as he raised his voice, "How's that comin' back there, guys?"

"Workin' on it," Claire responded quickly, "almost done."

Sam gave Dean one last glance and quick shrug, "Let's give this a shot," he said, sliding the Ouija board across the table, settling his finger tips on the edge of the planchette and taking a deep, shuddering breath, "Okay, Morgan, uh, Dad? Are you, here?"

Morgan stared at John, who gestured welcomingly at the board, and they stepped to the edge of the table together. Extending her fingers, she placed them on the edge of the planchette, feeling a strange pressure before her hand sank through the wood, through the board and she pulled her arm back from inside the table with exasperation.

"Why can't I do it?!" she growled, balling her useless fingers into tight fists.

John sighed, shaking his head, "That temper's not a good look on you."

"Yeah, well, I come by it honestly," she grumbled, shaking her hand out before reaching towards the planchette with determination, but John stopped her.

"Let me help," he smiled, squeezing her hand in his before placing her fingers with his on the edge of the wooden frame surrounding the magnifying lens.

Morgan was shocked, a smile spreading across her face, as the planchette started gliding across the board. She barely caught her brothers glance at each other out of the corner of her eye, pausing the lens over the word 'YES'.

"Both of you?" Dean asked.

John sighed and Morgan felt the planchette shift a little before their Dad pulled it back over the same affirmative response.

"Holy shit," Sam and Dean breathed together and for a moment the only sound in the library was of Claire and Bryan preparing the spell while the brothers stared longingly at the air where their father stood behind the veil of the living.

"Now what?" Morgan asked.

"You need that goofy, pink book, right?" John nodded at the journal still wedged under a heavy text.

She nodded, trying to push the planchette herself, but her fingers nearly sank through again, only stopped by her Dad's quick reflexes. Morgan took a deep breath, resolving she would not be skilled at moving the stupid thing and looked up at John for help.

"What're we spellin'?" he grinned.

"Oz book," she said, "Sam'll know what I'm talking about."

John nodded and the planchette started gliding towards the rows of letters, Sam scrabbled for a piece of paper and pen under a few books, and both brothers said the letters aloud as the lens hovered a moment over them.

"O, z, b, o-"

"Is that two o's?" Dean asked, "I think it went back."

"I didn't see it," Sam shook his head.

"The hell you two gonna see anything if you're not lookin'?" John scoffed, hovering over the K that neither was paying attention to.

"Ozbo?" Sam said, glancing at the board again, "K! Okay, ozbok? Ozbok, oz bo- Oz book!"

"Told you there was two o's," Dean commented, but Sam was already lunging at the pile of books and tearing the pink journal from its confinement.

"You were right," Sam said distantly while flipping pages frantically.

"I know," Dean nodded, "I just said that."

"No," Sam shook his head, "She must've forgot the return spell."

"Oh," Dean smirked smugly, "guess I'm on a roll then."

Sam scoffed lightly and, another few page turns later, stopped and inspected the journal.

"Hey, guys," Claire got their attention, gesturing the perfectly set table, "we're ready."

Sam and Dean looked at each other, the oldest inclined his head and the younger shrugged.

"Can't hurt," Sam reasoned.

"That might not be true," Dean corrected.

"Yeah," Sam sighed, "but still probably not as bad as some'a the other shit we've released on the world."

"That's comforting, thanks," Dean said dryly.

"Okay," Sam took a deep breath and laid the open journal on the table across from himself, almost directly in front of Morgan, pinning the pages down with the corner of another book and an empty glass of scotch, "I hope that's all you need kiddo, but we're gonna try 'n make this trip easier for ya."

The words Morgan looked at were laughably familiar, she couldn't believe she'd forgotten them, but a twinge of dread panged inside when John squeezed her hand.

"You ready?" he asked a little sadly.

"I'm gonna miss you," her voice broke a bit in the admission.

"I'm always with you," John promised, "and you'll see me again, a very, very long time from now," he finished the proclamation with a chuckle and a kiss on her forehead, "Now, c'mon, let's get you home."

Morgan nodded with forced determination and returned her focus to the second part of the spell she was stuck between. Taking a deep breath, she said the words with slow, deliberate syllables.

"Suscipe me in domum suam, nihil est instar domus."


	23. Chapter 23

_**Thank you all so much for the support, it really meant a lot, he was a close friend and part of our group so lately there's been a lot of mutual support between our friends and sometimes its nice to know you have support from someone who doesn't need it returned for the same reason- I hope that makes sense, but you guys really helped, thank you, I'm healing and it hasn't been easy, but Nelson would want me to write so I'm not gonna let him down. This part is winding down with John, but there's another bit left here that I think needs to happen so it's not quite over yet...** _

_**Apologize in advance for grammar, spelling and other general screw ups, I just finished this and it was either publish now with potential mistakes or tomorrow 'cause I'm going to the bar ;-)** _

"Bryan," Dean's gaze was cold as his words, "it's not that I don't believe you. I just don't care. All I care about right now is getting Morgan back to her body. After that, then I'll worry about how hard I'm gonna kick your ass."

Bryan nodded, staring at his feet and wishing Dean would just get it over with. He didn't feel guilty for having Morgan in his bed, no that was just what would make the inevitable beat down worth it, but Bryan couldn't shake the self-deprecation over his silence about her nightmare. The terrifying moments of her twisting unconsciously on his bed continued to plague Bryan's thoughts, a harsh reminder he should've trusted his instincts and not what he knew had been a sweetly intended lie by the beautiful, convincing young woman.

"Hey, I grabbed all the candles I could find," Claire interrupted the tension, walking up the stairs with caution, barely visible behind the large box she was peering around, "I wasn't sure which the sage ones were."

"It's fine," Dean took the box, slid it next to the crate and started digging through the contents, "but for future reference, they're these," he pulled out a thick, greenish candle, bits of intact plant were visible in the hardened wax.

Claire leaned forward and sniffed deeply, "Okay, yeah, got it. So how do we set 'em up?"

"Sam's got the book," Dean glanced towards the stairs.

"He said he's grabbin' the rest," Bryan interjected quietly and Dean nodded curtly.

Claire smirked sadly at Bryan and he tried to offer a grin of indifference, but knew he couldn't hide the pained sadness in his eyes. He'd never felt less welcome anywhere in his life, but worse, Bryan was trapped, at least until he knew Morgan was alright.

"Alright, I think we've got everything we need," Sam hopped onto the landing with the spell book in one hand and a tackle box in the other.

Claire reached for the book, but Sam wasn't paying attention and tossed in on a pile at the end of the other table and set the tackle box by the crate, flipping the latches and was about to lift the lid when the same heavy text he'd just dropped hurled itself directly into his back. Claire jumped backward into Bryan, who grabbed her around the waist to keep from falling backwards, but held on as he stared in shock at the book. Sam pushed himself up, his gaze darting around the end of the other table, Dean too couldn't drag his eyes from around the stack of books.

"Anybody got an EMF reader?" Sam asked.

"A ten-pound book just rocket launched into your spine," Dean scoffed, "What the hell do you need an EMF reader for?"

"Is it," Claire's question was hardly audible and Bryan squeezed her hopefully before releasing his arm.

"Morgan?" Dean called to the empty space.

Sam stepped forward, "Dean, you think?"

"Unless I've  _royally_  pissed off one'a those guys," Dean jerked his head at the crate on the table, "I think it's our only option."

"You think?" Sam looked at his brother, who clearly understood the question Bryan did not.

Dean nodded slowly after several seconds, "Maybe, yeah."

"You two," Sam grabbed the book from the floor and handed it to Claire, "get this set up on the back table over there."

Bryan peered at the crate, "Does it matter which-"

"Pick a dead guy and go, kid," Dean growled, his eyes still focused where the spell book had launched from.

Bryan snatched an antique urn from the crate and followed Claire to the designated table. The Winchesters lowered their voices and, being behind them, Bryan couldn't have heard their muttering if he'd wanted to, which he didn't. Claire handed him the book after he set the urn gently on the table, repulsed by the disrespectful act they were about to subject a man's ashes to, but tried to remind himself it was for a greater good.

"You're sure this is it?" Claire confirmed when Bryan pushed the opened book between them on the table.

"Yeah," he nodded, pointing at the symbol on the page and jerking his head at the urn, "Gotta set the base."

Claire grimaced and searched the table a moment before ripping a piece of paper out of a nearby notebook and folding it in half lengthwise. Bryan's attention was only briefly torn from her when he heard Sam's heavy feet pounding from the library.

"Okay," Claire fanned the edges a bit, opening the crease she'd made, "We can pour the, uh, dead guy, in here, little by little 'n sort'a  _draw_  out this thing."

"Good idea," Bryan nodded, glad to avoid touching the ashes, "but this part," he tapped the page, "this lost me, it translates basically to  _make the top the bottom_."

Claire squinted at the inscription and shook her head after a few moments, "I think it's talking about directions, but, I'm not sure," her gaze shifted to the oldest Winchester, standing with his back to them.

"He'll answer  _you_ ," Bryan mumbled, trying to hide the discouragement in his voice.

Claire sighed, her face betraying her agreement, and called with obvious trepidation, "Dean, I'm sorry, but, can you just check this?"

Dean's head turned just enough that Bryan knew he'd heard and, a moment later growled towards the other table as he side stepped towards them, "You throw somethin' at me I'm gettin' the rock salt," he turned to Claire and his eyes didn't even flicker to Bryan, "What's up?"

"We just wanna make sure we have the right position on this," Claire pointed at the symbol and Latin instructions on the page, "I think it's saying the top needs to be pointed South, if we're in the Northern hemisphere, which we are."

Dean's lips moved a little as he read the inscription and slowly he nodded, meeting Claire's eyes again, "You're right, nice job, I think I've got a compass in my room if y'need it."

Bryan was already clicking the compass application on his smart phone when Dean finished his statement and caught a scowl from the older man before he walked away, joining Sam who'd returned with what looked like a board game in his hands. When he discarded the top of the box, however, Bryan saw OUIJA and understood Sam's plan, returning his attention to Claire and their task. It was hard not to overhear the brothers, though, they weren't concerning themselves with keeping their voices down anymore.

"No crappy comments?" Sam asked.

"Still makes me feel like a thirteen-year-old girl at a sleepover," Dean responded with bitter humor.

"Can't say I've ever felt like a teenage girl," Sam was exceptional at quick wit, "but I'm glad you can admit that about yourself."

"Shut up," Dean's comebacks could use work and Bryan laughed to himself, but his stomach sank when their joking stopped suddenly.

"Did you hear-" Sam's concern made Bryan look up from pouring the ashes into the paper slide, worried he'd let a chuckle escape.

"Somethin'," Dean confirmed, both were still focused on the empty space around the other table and Bryan sighed silently, "How's that comin' back there, guys?"

"Workin' on it," Claire responded quickly, "almost done," Bryan gave her a side-eyed smirk while gently pouring more ashes into the gray stained paper, they were half done, but Claire started shaking the ashes out a bit faster.

"Careful," Bryan warned.

"I got it," Claire hissed, turning her head from the cloud of ash floating off the table, "Get the candles."

While Claire finished the intricacies of the symbol, Bryan studied the exact positioning of the sage candles, Northeast, Northwest, Southeast, Southwest and directly in the center of the ash circle, easy enough.

"Ozbo?" Sam's mumbling got louder with excitement, "K! Okay, ozbok? Ozbok, oz bo- Oz book!"

"Told you there was two o's," Dean said over the sound of large books behind dropped on the table.

"You were right," Sam commented.

"I know," Dean scoffed, "I just said that."

Bryan and Claire rolled their eyes at each other.

"Do they ever not bicker?" Bryan whispered.

Claire expelled a short laugh and shook her head, "You should'a heard the cheerleading argument."

"Actually, really glad I didn't," Bryan muttered and Claire nodded with an agreeing smirk.

She tapped the remaining ash back into the half empty urn carefully and folded the paper, using the creased side to perfect the edges in the symbol and sweep excess ash back into line. He then set the sage candles in the exact positions his eyes had been darting between for the last minute, extremely mindful of his movements and kept his breathing shallow.

They took a step back together, comparing their creation on the table to the drawing on the page and simultaneously shrugged at each other.

"Looks good to me," Bryan said and Claire nodded, turning towards the brothers.

"Hey, guys," she called, gesturing an open hand at the table, "we're ready."

Sam and Dean shared a look briefly and Bryan couldn't help a side-eyed scowl at Claire, who shook her head with a quiet scoff. The Winchesters were exceptional at understanding each other without words, unfortunately they didn't seem to care that no one else followed their silent conversations.

"Can't hurt," Sam said finally.

"That might not be true," Dean argued weakly.

"Yeah," Sam sighed, "but still probably not as bad as some'a the other shit we've released on the world."

"That's comforting, thanks," Dean's indifferent sarcasm made Bryan wonder what they'd let loose on the world, but something told him he didn't want to know.

"Okay," Sam expelled a nervous scoff while laying the open journal on the table, "I hope that's all you need kiddo, but we're gonna try 'n make this trip easier for ya."

Bryan's heart leapt at the insinuation Morgan was close, even in the room, then his gut twisted wondering how long she'd been there. How much had she heard? For a moment, they all stared at the table, holding their breath and waiting, but nothing changed.

"Okay, let's get this goin'," Dean stalked towards Bryan and Claire, both stepped back, though Bryan moved further than Claire.

Sam picked the spell book off the table, shifting his eyes from the page to Bryan and Claire's work a few times before finally nodding his approval, "Somebody get the lights."

Bryan hurried to flip the switches on one wall while Dean no less than rushed to the other and Claire took a confused step in both directions before shaking her head at Sam. Dean took a seat, pulling the chair out next to him and gesturing Claire to the one next to him. Sam jerked his head at the seat across from Claire and Bryan sat, sharing a brief smirk with his friend before dropping his gaze to the table. Sam and Dean lit the candles quickly, settled into their seats and for a minute it was silent.

The brothers shared a glance in the direction of the table and sighed together.

"Alright," Sam said, sliding the book between his forearms and leaned over, his hair falling in front of his face and the flipped in place next to his ears when he snapped his attention to Bryan and Claire, "I, uh, don't know if anybody has any powers or psychic abilities they'd like to share, but now would be the time."

"I think you're the only one with the Miss Cleo history," Dean said and Claire and Bryan shared a confused smirk.

"Okay, well, guess I'll read then," Sam genuinely did not sound thrilled at the task and took a deep breath, but, before he could say another word, the heavy clang of the door overhead stole everyone's attention from Sam.

"Guys?" Castiel's voice called cautiously, "It's just me."

Bryan watched the brothers visibly relax and simultaneously push their chairs back, heading towards the library steps.

"Yeah, Cas, we're in here," Dean called back.

The soft steps of worn soles on grated metal stairs echoed in the large room and Bryan caught sight of the angel rounding the bottom of the spiral staircase as he and Claire quietly approached behind Sam and Dean.

"Where's Crowley?" Sam asked.

Castiel scoffed bitterly, "Who knows, he made some witty remark and zapped me about a mile down the road."

"Well, that doesn't sound like him," Dean said dryly.

Castiel walked up the stairs, but slowed as he neared the top landing and turned his gaze deliberately around the room, a smile gradually grew on his face.

"She's here," the angel's simple statement made Bryan's heart leap as his stomach turned in circles.

"Yeah, so's our Dad," the corner of Dean's mouth jerked upward a little as he spoke, but Bryan suddenly felt nauseous, replaying his conversations in the library all the way back to- he cringed remembering the moment he'd thought he was alone. Had his girlfriend and her father seen him cry?

"Cas," Sam began excitedly, "maybe you'd be the better, uh, man for the job on this incantation for, the séance, we're, gonna," Sam's words trailed away while the angel shook his head and stared at him blankly.

"Angel powers are not the same as psychics' or witches'," Castiel stated pointedly, "I will be more of a hinderance than a help."

"You've already helped," Dean slapped a hand on Castiel's shoulder, "she's here, that's closer than we were a few hours ago."

"Now it's just up to her," Castiel said.

The library lights suddenly flickered brightly and everyone jumped as a bulb burst in the lamp on the other table before the rest dimmed, slowly returning the room to near darkness, only the flickering candles illuminated the space softly.

"Is that her?" Claire asked, stepping a little closer to Bryan.

"I think she's gettin' a little frustrated," Sam offered, rubbing his back where the book had hit him.

"She needs to calm down and concentrate," Dean said pointedly, directing his command at the other table, taking a sidestep a moment later to avoid a large text that hurled itself at his head, "Okay, that's it, we need to get this veil weaker now," he growled at his brother and then barked at the emptiness behind the other table, "I've got about half a dozen reasons to kick this kid's ass!"

"Yeah," Sam scoffed, "threatening her's gonna help."

Dean chuckled meanly, "I just hope havin' a tantrum around Dad ends the same for her as it used to for us."

Sam grimaced, following his brother back to the table and the group carefully retook their seats around the carefully sculpted ashes.

"Ready?" Dean asked Sam.

"Nope," Sam pulled the spell book back between his arms on the table, "let's do it," he took a deep breath and extended one hand across the table while holding the other out to Bryan.

The young man took Sam's hand with trepidation, but was at least thankful he wasn't next to Dean. Claire gave his hand an encouraging squeeze and, with the circle complete, Sam dipped his head over the open page, squinting in the low light at the incantation.

"Heri spirituum," Sam began, his tone far more confident than he seemed, "Perdidisti nobis mundum ab animabus," Bryan watched the candle fires grow with Sam's words, "Quod perierat receperint, claustra dissolveret, iterum autem videbo vos," the final word caused a sudden burst in the candle flames, shooting fire towards the ceiling a moment before they settled.

Bryan saw Dean's stunned expression, his eyes softer than he'd ever seen them, before the others and followed the oldest Winchester's gaze, turning around in his seat while Sam sighed heavily.

"I hope that worked," he said, finally noticing his brother's expression and scrunching his forehead in confusion.

"It worked, Sam," Dean said simply, his eyes locked on the other table.

Sam whipped around and audibly gasped, "Dad?"

Bryan stared at the man who had appeared on the other side of the table nearest the stairs, tall and bulky with dark hair and a dark beard, both peppered with hints of gray. His smile was trained on the brothers who slowly stood from their seats.

"Hey, boys," John's husky voice was lighthearted, "long time."

_**Thank you for reading- yeah I know you hate me, but you know it'll continue soon, I've never left you with a cliffhanger that doesn't get completed so trust I'll be back ;-)** _


	24. Chapter 24

_**I sincerely hope you all enjoyed this because I am never doing this again lol seriously writing the same scene on essentially two different reality planes is a lot harder than you'd anticipate, since obviously it's something you expect to put yourself through someday, I don't recommend.** _

"Is it, you're really," Sam stammered a moment, but clamped his mouth shut when Dean rested a hand on his shoulder.

"It's me," John nodded, chuckling a little as he continued, "Sans body, but hey I think I'm lookin' pretty good for a dead guy," he gestured a finger at his salt and pepper hair, "Definitely halted the graying process."

Dean scoffed lightly at his father's joke and smiled, "Is Morgan with you?"

John beamed at his oldest and nodded to the nothing next to him, "She's here," his eyes fell on Sam with an amused grin, "She says she's sorry for throwing that book at you."

"And me?" Dean commented quickly.

John scoffed, "That was on purpose," his gaze locked on the empty space to his right, "but I'm sure she is," he was quiet a moment before shaking his head, "I'm not gonna tell him that."

"Tell me what?" Dean scowled at the air next to his father and crossed his arms.

John's arm wheeled around and his flat palm stopped abruptly mid-air next to his thigh, the move was strange, but the serious look on the patriarch's face was explanation enough for the action. Bryan grimaced and dropped his eyes, very sure Morgan was burning with embarrassment despite being invisible.

" _I_  can hear you," John growled, "and I don't wanna hear that word again," Bryan couldn't see Sam and Dean's faces, but saw them share a look and thought Dean's ears rose with a small smile.

"Why can't we see her?" Claire whispered and Bryan shrugged, but Castiel turned his head towards her from across the room.

"Morgan isn't a soul," the angel reminded them, "The veil isn't built for her and we have to assume she won't react to things the same as John will."

"So, did weakening the veil," Bryan began his hushed question, but caught Dean's scowl and shut his mouth while dipping his gaze.

John sighed heavily, stealing everyone's attention again as he addressed the emptiness where Morgan was supposedly standing, "I don't think he needs you to fight his battles- Sounds like it to me," another few moments of silence followed before John sighed again and turned to his oldest son with an almost pleading expression, "Easy up on the kid, Dean."

"Dad, if you knew-" Dean began to argue.

"I know all about it," John growled and Bryan felt like someone dumped ice water over him as the man's hard gaze fell on him, "We have bigger concerns right now."

"He's right," Castiel's sudden interjection made every head turn to him, "The longer Morgan's consciousness stays in the veil the more likely it is that she won't return."

Silence settled over the library.

"Since when?!" Sam burst.

"I would've thought that was obvious," Castiel said simply and Dean physically held his brother back from approaching on the angel.

"Will you stop droppin' bombs, man?!" Dean shouted, pushing Sam behind himself and squaring on Castiel, "What else should we find  _obvious_  about this incredibly insane situation?! I mean, even by our standards this is messed up! If you haven't noticed, my  _dead_  father is standing five feet from me, next to the  _consciousness_  of my sister that I can't see, who's apparently mad at me for no  _goddamn reason_ , and all I wanna do is get her home safe," his attention had fallen to the air next to John's right shoulder throughout the rant, but circled back to the angel as Dean wound down his tirade, "So, Cas, please, man, tell me what the Hell else I'm missin', 'cause I will take all the help I can get right now."

Castiel nodded slowly, his expression apologetic towards his friend, "Of course, Dean, I'm sorry."

"He's been pretty helpful already, son," John's voice wasn't as loud as it had been.

"Dad?" Sam's tone was full of concern.

He was fading, but still smiled at his boys.

"I got a minute," John promised and looked down at his right, "Cas here gave me a chance to meet a daughter I never would otherwise, and you are amazing, beautiful and so goddamn capable it scares me, Morgan," he chuckled and nodded a few moments later, "I have always and will always love you, I'm just so glad I got to meet you," John's increasingly transparent hand made a loving gesture, but looked unsatisfied as he pulled it back to his side, still, he managed a smile and encouraging tone, "I know you can, Sweetie."

There was a moment of silence again before John's attention returned to his boys.

"Dad," Dean stepped forward and paused.

"Dean," John spoke like his son was the only one listening and Bryan wished he wasn't trapped at the back of the library during the intimate moment, "I'm not sure how long I've got, listen, okay? You're a better man than I ever was," he held up a shimmering hand to stop his son's protest, "a hundred times better than my best day. Family has always been your priority, and it should've been mine, I'm sorry, Dean," they held each other's gaze several moments before John turned to Sam and grinned, "I think this is the longest we've been in a room together without fighting."

Sam scoffed lightly and sniffed hard, "I'm sorry, I was so mad at you, at the hospital, and you-"

"Sam," John said softly, halting his younger son's rambling, "You've always had a reason to hate me, and I'm sorry I gave you so many. I'm so proud of the man you are, you both are, and your sister is lucky to have you."

"I don't hate you," Sam assured his father, "Maybe I did once, but I get it now, I know why you were the way you were. I don't hate, Dad, I love you."

John's smile was almost impossible to make out as he faded to nothing, but his voice echoed in the room as he dissolved, "I love you too."

Once again, silence fell over the library until Dean twisted around on Castiel with confusion etched on his face, "What the hell was that? Where'd he go!?"

"Maybe the weakening spell wore off," Sam offered a bit distantly, his eyes still lingering where his father had been.

"He's returned to Heaven," Castiel informed them.

"But, what, he can't yet!" Dean stammered.

"A soul shouldn't be out of its heaven to begin with, Dean," Castiel began, "there was no telling how long before he would be called back."

"But what about Morgan?!" Dean barked.

Bryan thought he might throw up again.

* * *

"It's not gonna work if you're this twisted," John said reasonably.

"I'm  _not_  twisted," Morgan practically spat, trying to keep her anger hidden with almost no success.

The return spell hadn't worked. Not to mention watching Bryan dodge bitter scowls from her oldest brother was making Morgan increasingly guilt ridden and furious.

"Guys?" Morgan heard Cas behind her and turned to see him winding the spiral stairs, "It's just me."

"Looks like your angel friend made it back," John commented.

She narrowed her eyes as the angel walking alone across the open room, "Yeah, but," Sam asked the same moment Morgan did, "Where's Crowley?"

John scoffed, but Cas spoke before he could, "Who knows, he made some witty remark and zapped me about a mile down the road."

"Well, that doesn't sound like him," Dean's sarcasm couldn't be missed.

Her father's expression was strained, but he sounded almost amused when he said, "It's kinda disturbing how comfortable my children are with demons."

"She's here," Morgan was stunned when Cas looked directly at her when he spoke, but his gaze floated, making her realize he only had a vague sense of her location.

"Yeah, so's our Dad," Dean sounded relieved and John's shoulders rolled back slightly, clearly willing to take on all he could of what his son was bearing.

"Cas," Sam's attention turned to the table set behind him and then to the angel, "maybe you'd be the better, uh, man for the job on this incantation for, the séance, we're, gonna," he muttered the last few words before shutting his mouth while Cas shook his head slowly.

"Angel powers are not the same as psychics' or witches'," he said, "I will be more of a hinderance than a help."

"That's probably true," Morgan grumbled.

"You can do this," John's encouragement sounded almost demanding and she was sure he was losing patience.

"Now it's just up to her," Cas said and his words caused more anger to bubble, seething with frustration.

While she shook with deepening defeat the room grew from mostly darkness to a near blinding intensity and one of the bulbs exploded in a nearby lamp making everyone except the angry witch jump. Only a firm grip on her arm stole Morgan's attention

"You got power like that when you're angry, then you can do this!" John growled, his hard gaze trained on his daughter's.

"I tried!" Morgan insisted, "I can't!"

"You need to calm down and concentrate," John's firm statement coincided with Dean's in an eerily similar tone, "She needs to calm down and concentrate."

Morgan felt the bubble inside burst, "How the  _fuck_  am I supposed to calm down?!"

"Hey!" John barked, "I don't wanna hear that word outta your mouth."

Dean's threatening remarks stole Morgan's attention from her father's scowl, "I've got about half a dozen reasons to kick this kid's ass!"

"Yeah, threatening her's gonna help," Sam interjected.

Dean's chuckle seemed ominous and Morgan's stomach twisted feeling her Dad's eyes on her while her brother said, "I just hope havin' a tantrum around Dad ends the same for her as it used to for us."

She instinctually found Sam's eyes, his grimace was almost focused on her and Morgan momentarily brightened at the thought her brother could see her, but his eyes passed over her and he followed Dean to the table set with flickering candles.

"Morgan," John's voice was still firm, but gentle, and she met his eyes, "You can't lose it right now, you have to-"

"But it's hard-" she whined, but his quick finger snap forced Morgan to bite her lips together.

"I know it's hard," John nodded, "but banging at the problem like an angry little kid isn't gonna solve it. Now, your brothers and friends are over there tryin' to make this easier for you,  _you_  need to focus on finding the right mind set to make that spell work and I doubt  _tantrum_  is it."

Morgan forced a neutral expression despite the bitterness she still felt, worse if anything after her father's scolding. He didn't understand it was more than just her frustrations with the spell that was upsetting her, watching Dean and Bryan interact, the harsh comments from her brother and the defeated expression Bryan wore every time the oldest was in the in room, was twisting guilt inside. He was the only one bearing Dean's irritation and Morgan felt helpless to stop it, adding to her guilt and frustration made a dangerously explosive combination in the young witch.

"-nobis mundum ab animabus," Sam's words reached her ears, but a glance at their Dad made Morgan's eyes widen as she stepped back, "Quod perierat receperint," John was glowing, growing brighter with every word Sam spoke, "claustra dissolveret, iterum autem videbo vos!"

Morgan shielded her eyes as a burst of light shot from her father and blinked into the darkened room when it dissolved with Sam's final word. Her immediate curiosity over what had happened was interrupted by the shock on Dean's face, his gaze locked on John as he said, "It worked, Sam."

Sam whipped his head around and nearly fell out of his chair while trying to stand, "Dad?"

John beamed and Morgan saw pride in his eyes as he looked at her brothers, "Hey, boys, long time."

"Is it, you're really," Sam fumbled over his shock and Dean steadied himself, and his brother, with a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"It's me," John chuckled, "Sans body, but hey I think I'm lookin' pretty good for a dead guy," he winked at Morgan and pointed at his hair, "Definitely halted the graying process."

Dean laughed a little before asking, "Is Morgan with you?"

John smiled and nodded at Morgan, "She's here."

"So, they can see you, but not me?" she scoffed bitterly, "Figures. Then can you tell Sam I didn't mean to throw that book at him?"

John smirked and turned to Sam, "She says she's sorry for throwing that book at you."

"And me?" Dean snapped and Morgan scoffed.

"That was on purpose," John continued and it took her a moment to realize his attention was on her as he said, "but I'm sure she is."

"About as sorry as he is for how he's treating Bryan," she grumbled, "Why don't you tell him he's a hypocritical jerk and I  _know_  what he did with my chemistry teacher."

John shook his head with a blank, unamused look, "I'm not gonna tell him that."

"Tell me what?" Dean managed to scowl directly at Morgan, not quite finding her eyes, but close enough, causing defensive rage to rise.

"That you're a  _fucking_   _asshole_!" Morgan yelled.

She wasn't remotely prepared for the swarm of bees that stung her backside and jumped as she yelped. Burning with mortification, the other's might not be able to see her, but there was only one reason for that arm motion.

"He can't hear me!" she insisted, turning her backside as far away from her Dad as she could, astounded how much the single swat from his hand had smarted and briefly sympathizing for her brothers' childhoods.

" _I_  can hear you," John growled, "and I don't wanna hear that word again,"

Morgan caught her brothers sharing a rather smug smirk and kept herself from sticking her tongue out at them.

"Morgan isn't a soul," Cas's matter-of-fact statement piqued her interest and Morgan listened intently, "The veil isn't built for her and we have to assume she won't react to things the same as John will."

"So, did weakening the veil," Bryan's question was almost inaudible and he shut his mouth completely when Dean turned on him with a nasty scowl.

"Okay,  _that_ ," Morgan pointed at her brother with her attention on her father, "That's just mean, he doesn't need to do that. Bryan's got enough goin' on without Dean treating him like crap  _all the time_!"

John sighed heavily, "I don't think he needs you to fight his battles-"

"I'm not-" she tried to insist.

"Sounds like it to me," John smirked.

"Dad," Morgan pouted, "He lost his mom only a few months ago, he doesn't have anywhere else to go, and here Dean just makes him feel unwelcome, every day."

John nodded slowly with an understanding gaze in his eyes and turned to his oldest son, "Easy up on the kid, Dean."

"Dad, if you knew-" Dean's hostility was immediate, but their father had an unbelievable ability to halt him with a look, a feat Morgan wouldn't've thought possible had she not witnessed it.

John looked at the young man in the back of the room and Morgan wished Bryan could see her grimacing apologetically at him as her Dad growled, "I know all about it. We have bigger concerns right now."

"He's right," Cas said abruptly, "The longer Morgan's consciousness stays in the veil the more likely it is that she won't return."

"What?" Morgan gasped, looking up with fear at her father and around at the others too stunned to say a word, "How is that, but-"

"Since when?!" Sam burst.

"That!" Morgan pointed at Sam and scowled at Cas.

"I would've thought that was obvious," his rather pompous response made Morgan lurch towards the angel, only stopped by John's hand on her arm as Dean held Sam back from attempting the same move.

"Will you stop droppin' bombs, man?!" Dean barked, "What else should we find  _obvious_  about this incredibly insane situation?! I mean, even by our standards this is messed up! If you haven't noticed, my  _dead_  father is standing five feet from me, next to the  _consciousness_  of my sister that I can't see, who's apparently mad at me for no  _goddamn reason_ , and all I wanna do is get her home safe," Dean's eyes found Morgan's, whether he knew it or not, and she was filled with guilt, sadness and deep longing, wanting a hug from her brother so bad it hurt, it was worse when he looked away, "So, Cas, please, man, tell me what the Hell else I'm missin', 'cause I will take all the help I can get right now."

"Of course, Dean," Cas looked as apologetic as Morgan knew he could be, "I'm sorry."

"He's been pretty helpful already, son," she heard a weakening in her father's tone and turned to see his form fading.

"Dad?" Sam looked scared and Morgan was sure his expression was a reflection of hers.

"I got a minute," John smiled at Sam and Dean before turning to Morgan and her heart pounded in anticipation of the last few moments she'd have with her Dad, "Cas here gave me a chance to meet a daughter I never would otherwise, and you are amazing, beautiful and so goddamn capable it scares me, Morgan."

"I'm told I'm like you," she mumbled and he scoffed lightly while nodding in agreement.

"I have always and will always love you," her Dad continued, "I'm just so glad I got to meet you," he moved an opaque hand over her hair, but Morgan didn't feel it and tried to hold in a whimper as he pulled it back to his side with a sad grimace.

"I love you too," Morgan said, "Thank you, I can do this," she smiled and bent her head over the open journal once again, taking several deep breaths as she did.

"I know you can, Sweetie," he said softly, just the encouragement Morgan needed

She allowed all the anger, sadness, love and joy to mix into the power fighting to be released and let the words fall confidently from her lips, "Suscipe me in domum suam, nihil est instar domus."

Like a giant hook had snagged her in an impossibly fast move, Morgan felt herself lurch away from the library. Dagon and Julian flash before her, but they weren't in the basement, they were in a black SUV, highway sign North – Armitage – Fullerton, two-lane road, basement and Julian's scream reached her ears. Morgan gasped, inhaling deeply as she sat up in her bed.

"Morgan!" Garth jumped out of the chair, stirring a sleeping Channing on his shoulder, but the toddler quickly snapped his eyes closed again, "You're alright!"

She shook her head, trying to understand what she'd just seen.

"Are you alright?" Garth asked.

"Yeah," Morgan nodded quickly, sliding off her bed, "I'm gonna-"

"Go!" Garth insisted and Morgan bolted from the room.

She didn't run down the hallway, but definitely walked at a brisker pace than usual.

Cas's words were muffled as she approached the open room, Dean's angry question, however, was clear as a bell, "But what about Morgan?!"

"I'm here, Dean!" she called, skidding to the bottom of the stairs.

The moment her brothers' eyes fell on her, really seeing her, relief hit Morgan and she crumbled into happy tears as they rushed down the stairs.

_**Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers, you keep this going and I greatly appreciate the time you take to tell me what you think. I hope you all enjoyed and thank you for reading =)** _


	25. Chapter 25

_**Hi friends! Thank you so much for the great feedback from the last chapter! I'm impressed how many people liked my take on John, that was a real boost of confidence about his character thank you =)** _

_**Personal excitement: Some of you might've already found my other series Growin' Up Guardian from the Guardian's of the Galaxy fandom and I've had a lot of excitment with it like a reader asking to translate it into Russian (I'm international now guys!) but THIS WEEK my story has officially topped the reviews for all GOTG stories on fanfiction.net and I'm beyond happy about it =) No where near the top for followers lol but it's growing!** _

_**I really hope you all had something this week that made you smile as much as that made me smile! Have a great weekend and enjoy this chapter =)** _

Sam and Dean barely came to complete stops before trapping her between them into such a tight hug Morgan couldn't breathe for a moment, but, as soon as she inhaled their scents, more tears poured down her cheeks. Her fingers twisted into their flannels, afraid if she let go she'd never be able to grab hold again.

They loosened their grips after a minute and Morgan raised her head, sniffling as Dean wiped his thumbs under her eyes.

"Is Dad," she let her question fade away, sure she already knew the answer.

"He went back," Dean nodded.

"You okay?" she saw tears in Sam's eyes when his hard sniffle caught her attention.

Sam scoffed, "Better than ever," and pulled Morgan close again, planting a kiss on her hair.

"Are  _you_  okay?" Dean asked.

"I think, yeah," she held her arms out as if a physical inspection was proof, but a familiar pang brought a hand to her stomach, "I'm starving."

Sam and Dean chuckled and took a step back, revealing Claire and Bryan waiting tentatively at the bottom of the stairs. Morgan pushed passed her brothers with hurried strides towards her friends and they engulfed her between them.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Claire sighed shakily.

Bryan said nothing, but held her tight until a hard throat clear encouraged his grip to release.

"Let's get you some food," Dean jerked his head, taking a step towards the kitchen.

"Hold on," Morgan said, turning her gaze around to all of them, Cas joined the group at the bottom of the stairs and she continued, "I saw something on my way back."

"What?" Sam asked.

"Dagon and Julian," she said, feeling Bryan stiffen beside her, "it was really quick, like I caught a glimpse, maybe 'cause he was the last thing I looked in on, I don't know, but-"

"We're not gonna worry about this right now," Dean said firmly, "You're gonna eat and relax, I don't even want you thinkin' about those-"

"It's not up to you," Morgan said simply and silence settled in the open room.

"Excuse me?" Dean's gaze hardened after he managed to stop gaping at his sister.

"It's not," she repeated, "It's not up to me either. We can't make this go away by ignoring it. I messed up, I held on too long and wasn't prepared for what happened, I admit it, I'm sorry and I am happy to have that conversation with both of you, but right now, I have fresh images of where the main big bad is taking the secondary big bad she has hostage. Don't let your concern for me cloud your judgement about the job, Dean."

Sam looked like he was afraid to glance at their brother, but Morgan held Dean's icy gaze with matched determination.

"Is there any reason you can't relay this information at the kitchen table?" Dean finally growled.

Morgan stifled a scoff and shook her head, "Not at all."

"Good, 'cause there's somethin' I'd like to discuss with you 'n freeloader over there," Dean's scowl landed on Bryan and Morgan wasn't sure if it was human intuition or magic, but she felt Bryan's grief and anger like a fire suddenly blazed at her side.

"Stop," she bit out sharply, stepping towards her brothers with narrowed eyes on Dean.

"Oh, little girl don't even-" he began, but was swiftly interrupted.

"Stop," Morgan repeated more firmly, "Dad 'n I were in this library a while before you guys figured it out, I know exactly what you wanna talk about, but he's not lying to you, and if it was anyone's fault it was mine. Bryan laid down on the floor  _and I_ talked him into getting into bed with-"

"Morgan I don't wanna hear this!" Dean shouted.

"Well you're gonna hear it Dean!" she yelled back, "You wanna have a conversation? No! You wanna bark and lecture with no intention of listening! We're trying to tell you that nothing happened-"

"You think I'm stupid?" Dean scoffed angrily.

"I think you're unreasonable," Morgan's words had a plea to them, but her expression remained unrelenting.

Dean laughed meanly, "You think I'm unreasonable?  _Whose_  boyfriend is living here?"

"Where the hell would you like him to go?" Morgan challenged.

"Anywhere but a fuckin' bed with my little sister," Dean was beside himself, his lips contorted in a strange smile while his eyes burned with anger.

"I convinced him!" Morgan insisted.

"I'm sure it took  _so_  much convincing!" Dean hurled back.

"Prob'ly a shit ton more than it took with you 'n Ms. Ellet!" Morgan snapped and Dean instantly looked shocked, allowing his sister the opportunity to slide in one last remark, "And a  _lot_  more happened in your bed than Bryan's."

Dean opened his mouth to say something and closed it, growling and flaring his nostrils at Morgan.

"Morgan," Sam said after a few moments of shock settled around them, "We set some pretty straight forward rules before we left. Dean 'n I have a right to be upset that you both completely disregarded them."

"I'm not arguing with you," Morgan said, "I'm in deep shit, I get it, but Bryan doesn't deserve the constant underhanded comments and outright threats-"

"Nobody's-" Dean tried.

"Don't forget I was just invisible in that library with you," Morgan snapped and Dean shut his mouth, "You're pissed, I get it. Deserved. But then treat me the same way you're treating him, hell, worse since I was the initiator."

Dean took a deep, shaky breath, biting his lips hard as he nodded slowly at the floor and simply walked down the hallway towards the garage.

Morgan and Sam watched him leave before turning to each other, her stomach twisted seeing the disappointment written on Sam's face. She hadn't noticed Bryan sneaking away towards their bedrooms, but Sam's attention snapped to the opposite hall entrance before the young man made his exit with Claire trailing right behind.

"Where the hell do you think you're goin'?" Sam asked sharply.

"Sam!" Morgan almost screeched and, in the moment her brother's attention shifted to her, he grimaced almost remorsefully.

"I, should, go talk to Dean," Sam took a few steps towards the opposite hallway, "Morgan, get somethin' to eat."

"Yeah, on it," she nodded, jerking her head for Claire and Bryan to follow her towards the kitchen before Cas decided who to join.

"Well," Claire sighed, "I'll say one thing about living in Fort Winchester, it's never boring."

Morgan expelled a hard laugh, "Wouldn't that be refreshing?"

"Hey," Claire directed her attention to Bryan, "You alive in there?"

"Yeah," Bryan nodded quickly, "just thinkin'."

"Don't hurt yourself," Claire said dryly, encouraging a small grin on Bryan's previously grave face.

"Oh, I doubt I'll need much help," Bryan scoffed and Morgan winced.

"They're not gonna hurt you," she said, not sure if she was trying to convince herself or if she truly believed they wouldn't, but Bryan's disbelief was obvious.

"As long as they leave me with the ability to crawl to my car I won't blame them," he laughed darkly, but Morgan's stomach twisted.

"Are you, thinkin' about leaving?" Morgan's question left her terrified of the answer.

Bryan sighed, grinning at her as he said, "I can't stay here forever, I'll be surprised if they don't kick me out-"

"They won't," she said with finality.

"Maybe you're right," Bryan's pacifying statement did nothing to ease Morgan's growing concern.

"Are you thinking, like soon?" she asked.

"I'm not thinking anything," he chuckled, "Just talkin', doesn't seem like a stretch they'd tell me to beat it."

"They won't," Morgan repeated, sure of that much at least.

"Okay," Bryan grinned, "We'll find out soon anyway."

The young couple shared a small, unamused laugh before their friend reminded them of her presence with a short cough.

"Can I," Claire looked tentatively at Morgan, "unless you wanna wait for them, I understand if you don't wanna think about it twice-"

"What?" Morgan asked.

"What'd you see?" Claire asked.

Morgan gasped and stopped dead with her hand on the refrigerator, having completely forgotten about the flashes of Dagon and Julian. She closed her eyes, trying to find the images that were starting to dissolve from the clear picture she'd seen on her return trip from the veil.

"The last thing I saw was the basement again," she kept her eyes closed, her mind felt like mush trying to filter through what she'd seen, "It's a place in the country, Julian was in the back of black SUV, not a truck like Phelan had, the smaller ones, but still, big-"

"Crossover?" Bryan offered.

"Sure," Morgan shrugged, closing her eyes again, "There's a dirt road to a two-lane highway, but, then it got bigger, and I saw a highway sign, Fullerton, Armitage, North, I pass. I pass? Ipass! Bitch is back in Chicago!"

"What? Why?" Claire scoffed.

"I'm sure she'll offer that information next time we chat," Morgan sneered and Claire grimaced.

"Really, though," Bryan said curiously, "I wonder why she keeps heading back there."

"Easy to hide," Morgan repeated her Mother's constant reason for using the city as sanctuary, "Plus Julian's family's like, big shots there, maybe Dagon thinks she can make them choose to save his life over betraying her with Phelan."

"Yeah," Bryan nodded thoughtfully, "Didn't Crowley say something about Chicago bein' run by monster families?"

"Yeah," Morgan nodded, "Sam 'n Dean had a run in once, sort of."

"Of course, they did," Bryan muttered and Morgan shot a side scowl at him quickly.

"Isn't the Grand Coven there too?" Claire asked.

"What's left of it," Morgan affirmed, finally lurched the refrigerator door open and scanned the shelves for takeout that wasn't weeks old.

"Any, uh, idea where in Chicago?" Bryan asked.

"I don't know," Morgan said absently, reaching for a plastic container of pasta, "Best guess is somewhere on the Northside," popping the lid she took a quick sniff, preparing for it to be rancid and was pleasantly surprised, "Fullerton and Armitage are further North, and I think, Sam and Dean said the Duvals run the Gold Coast. North Av, Fullerton and Armitage all run right there, so that would make sense."

Bryan and Claire nodded at Morgan's well thought out reasoning and she scooped the last of the pasta onto a plate, tossing it in the microwave on high.

* * *

Bryan excused himself to the bathroom once Morgan was a couple forkfuls into the reheated pasta, but snuck into the bedroom at the end of the hall, the one they all called his. The only things that belonged to him were packed in the duffel bags on the floor, though Bryan checked again around the room to be sure he hadn't missed anything.

While he'd appreciated Morgan's defensive outburst, if only to see the look on Dean's face over being called out about Ms. Ellet, that moment in the open room at the bottom of the library steps solidified his need to leave. On top of everything, Bryan wasn't going to be called a freeloader again, he'd offered Dean money for his stay until the man had threatened to punch him, and he wasn't kidding. It had taken all of Bryan's self-restraint to keep from exploding when the insult burned his ears.

He hoped he could sneak into the garage before Sam and Dean decided they wanted to have a conversation with him and Morgan. Bryan almost shook with anticipation, knowing how close he'd be to leaving as soon as his bags were in the Grand National. Guilt rolled in his stomach, but he ignored it, reminding himself that Morgan was well protected and, as long as his plan worked, she'd be safe.

The only missing piece was the Colt.

Bryan had briefly intruded Dean's room when the brothers, Castiel and Garth were gone, but, unsurprisingly, he didn't find anything. His heart had beaten so fast he'd probably only been in the bedroom less than a minute, but it felt like at least ten. Promisingly, however, he'd noticed a smudge of grease on the underside of his pillowcase and, since Bryan was fairly certain Dean didn't wear mascara, he was hopeful that was the Colt's home when it wasn't on the road with Dean. That was enough to give him a place to start, he wouldn't have long once he got into Dean's room, the man was a goddamn ninja.

Bryan heard deep voices in the hallway, assuming Sam and Dean had returned from the garage, and took a deep breath, kicking his duffels closer to the wall behind the door before leaving the room.

His first step over the threshold was interrupted by Claire, however, and he nearly bowled her over while awkwardly jumping to the side.

"Sorry," Claire laughed, "perfect timing."

"Yeah," Bryan chuckled, "You comin' to get me for my execution?"

Claire rolled her eyes, "No, I wanted to know what time I should be ready to go."

"What'd you-" he tried.

"I know you're goin' to Chicago," she said simply, her voice low, "I'm comin' with."

Bryan knew his jaw was hanging open and cleared his throat after the shock settled in, "Yeah? You sure?"

"Yeah," she nodded confidently.

"Well, uh," Bryan shot a look over her head to make sure they were alone in the hall and lowered his voice, "I'm ready, I just gotta get my bags to the car," he sighed, "and make that grab."

"They're in the kitchen with Morgan now," Claire told him, "but Garth just walked in as I left so I don't know what kinda time you've got."

Bryan shook his head, "That's last, I can't chance him noticing its gone while we're still in the bunker."

Claire nodded, "Okay, I'll be packed in ten minutes-"

"You've lived here for months," Bryan chuckled.

"How much did you unpack?" Claire challenged and he offered a smirk of admittance, "I'll be packed in ten minutes."

Bryan grinned and watched Claire closer the door to her room across the hall. His guilt grew, knowing Claire would definitely be safer staying with Sam and Dean, but, selfishly, he didn't want to be alone. Claire was older than him too, legally, they were both allowed to make their own decisions. Yet, technically, they were sneaking their belongings into Bryan's car and running away at the first opportunity.

"Hey," Morgan's call broke his trance and Bryan turned to her walking from the kitchen, "You abandoned us."

Bryan forced himself to match her joking grin, but the unknown truth in her words hit him hard.

"Yeah, sorry," he said, grimacing and putting a hand on his stomach, "I think whatever I ate last must've messed up my stomach."

"What'd you eat?" she asked with genuine concern, increasing his already heavy guilt.

"Y'know," Bryan scoffed lightly, "I don't even remember, this has got to be the longest twenty-four hours of my life."

"Oh, I can't imagine," Morgan expelled a short laugh.

Bryan felt himself pale, "Oh, my God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, Bryan, you're fine," she giggled, "I was just joking, really."

The end of his sigh turned the corners of his lips upward, "You doin' okay?"

"Surprisingly, yes," Morgan nodded, "I'm still not looking forward to being alone with my brothers, thank you Garth," she smiled, "but, y'know, that time in the veil started off really scary and ended with me almost not wanting to leave. Not that I wouldn't've y'know, just."

"You got to be with your Dad," Bryan said understandingly, "Honestly, not that  _that_  is ever  _normal_ , but y'know, I'm sure it'd be weirder for you to not have felt that way. He's your Dad."

"Yeah," she nodded with a blank, maybe sad expression and Bryan reached for her hand.

"I wish I could come even close to telling you how happy I am you're okay," he said, squeezing her hand in his, "I'm, uh, not sure what all you saw, and I really appreciate you jumpin' in even though you didn't need to, you didn't," Bryan shook his head to stop her protest, "but I just want you to trust me-"

"I do-" Morgan began.

"No, hang on," Bryan continued, "Just remember I can take care of myself, okay?"

"Look," she stared at him with sad shock, "I didn't mean to like, piss you off or something, but I think I know a little bit better than you how to go toe to toe with my own brother-"

"You do, you do," Bryan assured her quietly, "I just said I appreciated it-"

"Then what then?" Morgan scoffed.

"I just," Bryan sighed, "I meant, just, don't think you have to do that, I'm a big boy, I've always fought my own battles," unable to help himself, Bryan let out a quick laugh, "Sometimes I even seek out other people's."

"Like Billy and Patrick," Morgan grinned a little.

"Yeah," Bryan nodded, not thinking of Billy or Patrick at all as he pulled her into his arms, "Exactly."

A high, piercing whistle brought their attention to the entrance of the kitchen down the hall where Dean was gesturing them both to join him.

Bryan sighed, "It was nice knowin' ya."

Before Morgan could say anything, Garth was walking towards them and offered a quick wink before slipping quietly into his dark bedroom. Bryan felt a tiny bit hopeful he might not be limping out of the kitchen.

Sam and Dean each had an empty beer next to the ones they were currently drinking on the counter, neither sat, but directed the young couple to the table while they remained leaning against the island. Bryan pulled his chair a few inches further away from Morgan's, hoping he didn't give them more ammunition than they already had.

Dean took a long swig of his beer and set it back on the counter, clearing his throat and crossing his massive forearms in front of his chest, "Am I right in assuming there was no miscommunication over the rules, but that you two saw an opportunity that you probably wouldn't get caught, or am I way off base?"

Morgan made a sound like she wanted to protest, but a slight narrowing of Dean's gaze halted whatever objection she was about to make.

Bryan's mouth was dry, but he nodded and forced words passed his unwilling tongue, "Yes, sir, that's about it."

He felt Morgan's anger hot on the side of his face, but Bryan didn't break eye contact with the oldest Winchester except to attempt a hopeful glance at Sam. Sam's attention was on inspecting the amount of beer in the brown bottle he was holding.

"No, it isn't!" Morgan insisted bitterly.

"I've heard your side," Dean said warningly.

"Hardly!" she yelled, sitting back and crossing her arms when her brother snapped his fingers loudly.

Dean settled his attention back on Bryan, "You wanna defend y'rself?"

"No, sir," Bryan said simply and Dean's eyebrows rose, Sam finally raised his head to the conversation.

"Why not?" Dean scoffed.

"Because it's not gonna make a difference," Bryan kept his voice from shaking, "Regardless of why, I went against your rules, and honestly, I can't in good conscious promise you it won't happen again, or, somethin' else. I know that's not what you wanna hear, Dean, but it's the truth."

Dean sighed heavily, "It's not what I wanna hear, but I appreciate your honesty, kid."

Bryan nodded, "I'm sorry, I am, I really can't help how I feel about your sister, but I'm sorry this is how I've repaid everything you've done for me-"

"Bryan-" Dean tried to interrupt, but Bryan shook his head.

"No, really, Dean," he continued, "You have, you guys saved my life, and in the time I've been here I've learned a shi- a lot," Bryan grimaced at the near curse, but Dean didn't seem to notice, "but, I, I know you don't, really, want me here, and, well, I don't blame you."

Dean stared at him for a few moments, his expression void of any clue about his emotions, while Sam continued to glance between his brother and Bryan, opening his mouth a little and closing it without words twice.

"You're here," Dean said as if it settled the matter, "This isn't about you being here or not, Bryan, you're not goin' anywhere."

Bryan tensed, further motivated to leave the moment it was forbidden.

"Bryan," Sam pushed off the counter and joined the conversation, "We don't, not, want you here, but you gotta see where Dean and I have issue with you and Morgan, having, such, easy access, to each other."

"Absolutely," Bryan agreed, "And I've already screwed that up-"

"Nothing happened!" Morgan insisted.

Bryan smirked at her, "Enough happened."

Dean set his beer down loudly, "Okay, look, this isn't my area, I don't know what the fuck I'm doin' if you haven't noticed," he ran his hand roughly through his short, dark hair and turned to Sam, "Be nice if the old man could'a stuck around a little longer."

Sam scoffed lightly, "You think he would'a had a better solution here?"

Dean chuckled, "He'd'a killed the kid if he ever let him in the place to begin with."

Bryan's ears burned, but forced his teeth to hold his lips together.

"Can you two stop talking about people like they aren't in the room?" Morgan's question was filled with dry anger.

Sam and Dean shared a guilty look before returning their attention to the younger two at the table.

"You need to watch yourself," Dean pointed a warning finger at his sister, "This has been a really,  _really_ , long fuckin' day, but even with what happened I'm not ready to just let,  _this_ , slide," he gestured at the two of them while emphasizing the word, then looked at Sam again as he sighed and finally turned back to Morgan and Bryan, "I don't think I'm gonna get anywhere but in a fight tonight."

Bryan watched Sam and Morgan share expressions of shock and he too was surprised by the collected, rational consideration, Dean wasn't exactly known for calm reactions.

"You're all lucky Zen Master Garth's here," Dean mumbled before taking another long gulp of his beer.

"Always a student, Dean," Garth's sudden interjection stole everyone's attention to the doorway where his fist was still ready to knock on the frame before entering the kitchen, "Sorry, I don't mean to interrupt, but, I just got a call."

"About?" Dean waved his beer at Garth for him to continue.

"A friend of mine, she's been trying to keep families of wolves out of Phelan's way," Garth began, "she just called me on her way out of Omaha," Garth's face dipped sadly and he took a shaky breath, "She had a pack of six with her, said she barely made it out alive, nobody else did."

"Omaha?" Sam looked at Dean, "That's not far."

Bryan's hand found Morgan's and squeezed, she tried to grin, but feigned indifference couldn't break the fear on her face.

"Where's your friend headed?" Dean asked.

Garth shrugged sadly, "I don't know."

"She your kinda vegan?" the oldest growled a little.

"Yeah," Garth nodded, "She's good people, er, wolf."

"Alright, well, if she needs a place to recoup," Dean gestured his surroundings and Garth nodded in appreciation of the invite.

"What's her name?" Sam asked.

"Kate," Garth said, "I've only met her once when all this started, she's sort of a loner, had some issues with her sister I guess, I don't know, never got into it, she was closer with Bess."

Sam and Dean shared a furrowed brow expression before returning their attention to Garth.

"Blonde girl? Mid-twenties?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Garth said hesitantly.

"You know if she's from Michigan?" Sam asked.

"Maybe," Garth was eyeing the brothers suspiciously, "Why?"

"Pretty sure we've run into her," Dean said.

Bryan resisted expelling a laugh, reminding himself he should be more surprised by the monsters Sam and Dean weren't acquainted with.

"I was just gonna go outside and call her back," Garth waved his cell phone, "I can't get reception in the library."

"That's weird," Sam commented.

"Naw, it's happened to me before, c'mon," Dean pushed off the counter, "the gym always gives me full bars."

"Y'know Kate's not gonna wanna talk to us," Sam said, setting his empty beer on the counter as he stood to his full height.

"And we've still managed to convince her before," Dean smirked at his brother, but shifted his gaze to Bryan and Morgan with a serious expression, "We're gonna table this discussion, but you both know  _this_  doesn't get to happen again."

"Yes, sir," Bryan and Morgan said together.

"Go to bed, both of you," Dean said and led Garth out of the kitchen.

"Good night, Sweetie," Sam said, leaning over the table and kissing his sister's hair, then looked at Bryan, "See you in the morning."

"G'night," Bryan nodded, knowing he wouldn't be seeing any of them in the morning.

Before they left the kitchen, Bryan tugged Morgan closer to him, wrapping his arms around her and fighting the building pain in his chest. Her warm, slender body pressed against his was a feeling he never wanted to relent, loving the smell of her dark hair and buried his face in her neck, squeezing his eyes tightly on the tears threatening to escape.

"Hey," Morgan giggled, pushing back slightly, "We're alive, and he'll probably forget about tomorrow anyway."

Bryan forced a grin, "We'll see."

"Really, are you okay?" her concern was clear and Bryan wished he could keep her from worrying, but his success would ensure she wouldn't live looking over her shoulder.

"I'll be great," Bryan promised, "Don't worry about me."

Morgan scoffed lightly and shook her head, but, before she could respond, he brought his mouth down on hers, kissing her more passionately than he ever had. He held her close and their lips worked together perfectly, creating a moment Bryan didn't want to end and knew he'd never forget. Chills erupted down his spine when Morgan's nails lightly scratched the back of his neck and Bryan squeezed her quickly before pulling away. Sure if he didn't forced himself to let go he wouldn't have.

"Good night," Morgan smiled, rising her toes to land one more peck on his lips, "I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night," Bryan pushed the corners of his mouth upward, but felt himself cracking beneath the façade.

Distant, low voices echoed in the halls, but the words were inaudible, telling Bryan the others were in the gym. Morgan lingered in her doorway while he passed, smiling sweetly at him as she slowly shut herself in her room, he turned to Dean's partially opened door the moment she did. Rubbing his sweaty palms hard on his jeans, Bryan continued down the hall.

Inside the room they called his, Claire sat up on the bed when he entered.

"Bags are in the car," Claire said.

"What? How?" he scoffed in surprise, "You didn't pass the kitchen once."

"I've lived here for months," she reminded him with a smirk, "I know my way around this maze."

"My bags too?" Bryan turned to where they had been and no longer were.

"Yeah," she nodded, "Just the two and your phone charger plugged behind the nightstand, right?"

Bryan stared at her in admiration, he'd completely forgotten about his phone charger, "I kinda wanna kiss you right now, but it would be weird."

"Gross, yes it would," Claire smirked, "but you're welcome."

"Okay, we just gotta get the car outside the doors-" he began.

"Done," Claire said, "it's parked right inside the cave entrance."

Bryan frantically patted his pockets, "You stole my keys?"

"It wasn't hard," she smiled.

"What the hell'd you even need me for?" Bryan chuckled.

"Oh, I'm not stepping a foot in Dean Winchester's bedroom," she said in a low, joking tone, but there was no joke and Bryan nodded, biting his lips together nervously.

With a heavy sigh, Bryan shrugged his jean jacket on, "I'll grab it and head out the front door, just meet me there."

Claire nodded and slid off the bed, "Good luck."

Bryan's mouth was dry and his heart hammered in his throat. Luck would only be so helpful, but he'd take all of it he could get.

_**Thank you for reading, more on the way!** _


	26. Chapter 26

_**Hey guys, I'm sorry for such a long wait on this, I had a completely unexpected training seminar the** **entirety of last week, I worked 63 hours last week- for those of you who saw this yesterday on my GOTG chapter I'm sorry, but I'm still a little salty about it ;-p Anyway, I got to finish this and hope y'all enjoy** _

_**Thank you for your reviews they keep me going you have no idea =)** _

Morgan's eyes fluttered open, feeling refreshed after the first decent night of sleep in what felt like much longer than it had been, but the illusions of a calm morning dissolved only seconds after she sat up.

"Fucking bastard!" Dean's raging yell was echoed by something hard cracking against something harder and Morgan tugged her sweatpants on quickly, nearly tripping in her hurry to the door.

"Are you sure it's-" Sam was standing in Dean's doorway, concern and confusion clear on his face as he watched their older brother tear his mattress off the bedframe.

"I'm fuckin' sure, Sam!" Dean barked, "It was in my jacket, I went to put it back under my pillow 'n it's fucking gone, along with Claire and that thieving little asshole!"

"What?" Morgan stepped just behind Sam, gaining her brothers' attention immediately, "Where's Claire?"

"With y'r'klepto boyfriend!" Dean spat and Morgan stepped back in shocked hurt.

"Hey!" Sam snapped, "She didn't have anything t'do with this-"

"Y'sure?!" Dean yelled, his fiery eyes landing on their sister, "You know anything about those two takin' off with  _my_  gun?"

Morgan's gut twisted, but she caught site of the pearly white handle of Dean's pistol on his disheveled dresser and pointed at it, "Your guns right there."

"The Colt!" Dean bellowed so loud Morgan jumped.

"N-no," she shook her head adamantly, looking to Sam for help.

Dean growled, kicking his already tipped over desk chair into the wall.

"When could he've taken it?" Sam asked calmly.

Dean took a heaving breath, but his tone hardly decreased in agitation, "Did you check on either of 'em before we crashed?"

"Just her," Sam jerked his head at Morgan.

"So, we sent their asses to bed," Dean's face was contorted in an angry smile, "Talked to Kate 'n Garth for, what, fifteen minutes?" Sam shrugged in agreement, but Dean was already continuing his rant, "Had a few drinks in your room, we had the damn door open man!"

"I know, Dean," Sam insisted, "it doesn't make any sense, but we'll find them, alright, they can't be far."

"If they left while we were on the phone with Kate they've got almost twelve hours on us!" Dean raged.

Without much consideration, Morgan offered, "I could look for-"

"No!" both her brothers turned their heads and barked at her so fast she gasped and took a fearful step back.

Sam immediately looked apologetic, Dean, however, pointed an angry finger at his sister as he said, "Absolutely not, in fact, let's just all understand now-"

"Dean!" Sam shouted, "She didn't do anything! Stop fucking yelling at her!"

"I'm not, I'm just," Dean started his sentence at the same volume, but stopped suddenly and looked at Morgan, his eyes softened a moment before his lips curled and he let out another growl towards the ceiling, "Why would they do this?!  _Claire_  of all people!"

"I don't know, Dean," Sam shook his head, "but I'm gonna go check the GPS on both their phones in case they haven't turned 'em off yet."

Dean scoffed with bitter defeat, "Remember who she learned from."

Sam nodded and pushed Morgan to walk in front of him into his bedroom across the hall.

"Is he sure it's gone?" she whispered as Sam shut the door partially, "Maybe it's-"

"It's gone," Sam said, "and so are Claire, Bryan and his car. Dean 'n I tried callin' both of 'em just a few minutes ago, he left, uh, rather colorful voicemails."

Morgan's stomach sank and she felt anger, confusion and grief fighting to take precedence inside, releasing as a strangled, pained growl.

"You didn't know?" Sam asked.

"Of course I didn't know!" Morgan fired at him.

"I'm just tryin' to get the facts," Sam snapped, "I'm done gettin' yelled at here!"

"I didn't know," Morgan repeated, subdued and with tears creeping down her face.

"I didn't think you did," Sam assured her, pulling her into his arms, "I'm just tryin' to understand what happened."

"I can help," she said quietly.

"Not right now," Sam kissed the top of her head and squeezed her, "I know it's probably a walk in the park, but I can't watch you do that again, not right now, not this soon."

Morgan nodded, she understood his feelings, but scrying her friends would be even easier than a walk in the park. It wasn't worth the argument, though, not yet anyway.

Dean threw something else against the wall before he stomped down the hallway.

"He doesn't really think I knew about this does he?" Morgan looked pleadingly at Sam.

"No," he shook his head, "he's just pissed, or, well, I'm not really sure what level we're at, but let's just play it safe 'n stay out of his way."

Morgan nodded in agreement and sat on Sam's bed as he opened his lap top and dragged the desk chair right behind him with his foot before taking a seat.

"Alright, Bonnie 'n Clyde, where the hell are you?" Sam muttered while his fingers flew across the keys.

Morgan felt a pang of resentment at the chosen nicknames, having not yet considered a romantic link between her best friend and boyfriend, and anger suddenly lit in her gut, exploding in a mess of tears as she jumped to her feet.

"Fucking asshole!" she felt spit flying from her lips as she yelled and her brother whipped his attention to her, but Morgan's eyes were squeezed tight on the furious tears pouring down her cheeks, "How could they?!"

Sam had one strong arm holding her to his chest while his other hand stroked her hair and he tried to shush her hysterical sobs, "We're gonna find them, we will, we're gonna get the Colt back-"

A particularly heavy cry halted his words and Sam just held his distraught sister closer.

"Claire," Morgan heaved between her words, "and, Bryan, but, me, him-"

Sam stepped back, holding her at arm's length and leaned over to bring his eyes nearer her level, his hair fell in his face, but his hazel eyes stared intently at hers, "Morgan, no, that's not what happened-"

"How, d'yooou, know?" she tried to calm herself, but the sniffles became quiet sobs.

"I just do," Sam gave her a gentle shake to gain eye contact again, "Listen, hey, they didn't run off together, not like that. Okay?"

"But, you don't, know," Morgan wiped her face as she sniffed hard and gained control of herself.

"I'd be absolutely shocked if Claire's interest in Bryan extended beyond a ride out of here and maybe a hunting buddy," Sam grinned, "and I'm pretty sure Bryan is just plain terrified of her, so really, I wouldn't worry-"

"What else are we worried about?" Dean asked gruffly as he pushed Sam's bedroom door open.

"Nothin'," Sam said nonchalantly, "that's why we're not gonna."

Dean scoffed lightly, but nodded at his brother's laptop and changed the subject, "You gettin' anywhere with the GPS?"

"Yeah, no," Sam took one long step to his desk and sat back down, "I, uh, was just gettin' it goin'-"

"The hell you two doin' in here?!" Dean growled.

"Dean, please," Sam said with calm rationality, "I'm on it, just, can you go please?"

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam and swept them to Morgan, but, noticing the tears still staining her face, his angry expression dissolved.

"What's the-"

"Dean, please," Sam growled and jerked his head at the door when his brother turned to him.

"Okay," Dean wasn't pleased, but left without further argument and Morgan sank on Sam's bed again.

"Sweetie, just let me get this started-" Sam said.

"It's fine," Morgan shook her head, one hand on her chin, propped up by her elbow digging into her knee, squeezing her crossed legs together anxiously.

" _It's_  not," Sam said, his eyes on the screen, "and I'm more concerned about  _you_."

He turned his head in time for her to raise her eyes and share a small grin.

"I'm concerned about Bryan," Morgan said flatly and Sam furrowed his brow in confusion, but she smirked, "Dean's gonna kill him."

* * *

 

The Colt was heavy in the inside pocket of his jean jacket and Bryan continued to place a gentle hand on the outside to ensure it was there, smiling every time he did.

"Stop with that dumb smile," Claire scoffed, "and the gun's still there, you won't fuckin' let go of it. Where else would it be?"

Bryan chuckled quietly and offered a nod of agreement to her accusation. He'd barely taken the Colt out of his pocket to show Claire, instinctually gripping the handle tighter when she'd tried to reach for it. She'd been fairly salty since then, but Bryan had his grandfather's gun and the accelerator in his father's Grand National pressed nearly to the floor, Claire's silent treatment was not going to ruin his elation. Especially since boiling guilt in the pit of his gut was threatening to completely overtake his euphoric adrenaline rush.

"Where are we?" Bryan asked, he had a good idea of their location on the lonely highway they'd been travelling on for hours, but it was the only way he'd found of making short, but relatively cordial small talk with his passenger.

"I took us North of Springfield to avoid the traffic," Claire pulled the road map off the floor from between her feet, "Did you see any signs for Fifty-five North, yet?"

"You're a fantastic navigator, y'know?" Bryan joked.

"I told you where to go!" Claire insisted, jabbing the map with her finger.

Bryan smiled, "Fifty-five's in about seven miles."

"See, you're fine," Claire scoffed lightly, returning her eyes to the map, "It's not like this thing offers turn by turn."

"We can't use location services-" Bryan started to remind her.

"Because we have to turn on our GPS, I know," Claire sighed, "We've still gotta ways, we're not even in Normal yet."

"That's where you're from right?" Bryan asked.

"Pontiac," Claire said a bit sullenly, "It's not far, we'll pass it."

Bryan nodded, not wanting to bring up any bad memories, he knew of many Claire had from her childhood and could only imagine the ones she still held secret. He'd thought losing his father was rough, the idea of losing him, but still seeing his face with another being controlling the movements was downright horrifying.

He put his hand over the outside of his jean jacket again, pressing the Colt lightly into his side. His heart still beat a bit faster thinking about the frantic, but extremely meticulous search of Dean's bedroom that resulted in his rightful heirloom finally being in his possession. Bryan had waited an extra minute longer than they'd planned before entering the seasoned hunter's private room, mostly to make sure Claire had gotten the Buick pulled near the front entrance, not at all because he was sweating bullets. But he couldn't wait too long, unsure how long their conversation in the gym would take and just at that moment realized he had no idea where Castiel was, forcing Bryan to slip as fast and silently as he could into Dean's closed room.

Immediately, he'd flipped the pillow, surprised to find the mattress underneath empty and Bryan's heart had beat even faster, pounding in his throat. Setting the pillow down exactly as it had been, be moved next to the nightstand and carefully pulled open the drawer. Nothing. Bryan had started to panic at that point, being a bit less vigilant about the noise he was making as he pulled open the top two dresser drawers and patted Dean's socks and underwear, grimacing as he'd done so. Still, there was no Colt.

Bryan had turned to lean against the dresser, his hands on his head as he scanned the room at a complete loss of ideas, but his gaze landed on Dean's jacket hanging over the back of his desk chair, his open duffel still not unpacked from their last trip. Trying not to get his hopes up, Bryan had taken long, muffled strides to the chair and felt along the pockets. He found nothing on the right, but something heavy and perfect sized was weighing down the left side and Bryan had eagerly shoved his hand into the canvas jacket, nearly overcome with emotion when his fingers wrapped around the antique pistol.

In his excitement, Bryan had barely remembered to tug the front of Dean's jacket back into place before slipping the Colt into his own jacket pocket and pressing his ear to the door. There wasn't a sound in the hall and he'd taken a deep breath, forcing himself to pull the door open just enough to slide out and pull it shut without a sound. The first bubble of guilt came then, seeing Morgan's bedroom door and knowing she'd wake in a few hours wondering why they'd left and wishing she wouldn't hate him, she couldn't after he finished.

"Seriously, dude," Claire laughed, "You worried you got a hole in your pocket?"

Bryan expelled a short chuckle, "Just can't believe it's here, doesn't feel real."

"It's real," Claire scoffed, "I'm not lookin' forward to the voicemails we're about to get."

Bryan glanced at the radio, 5:47a.m., and his heart jumped, but he tried to sound indifferent, "Anytime now."

"I haven't had service for like an hour," Claire shrugged, checking her phone and dropping it in her lap, "This is what people did before data? They were just unreachable until another tower came in range?"

"I guess," Bryan knew she was joking and they laughed together, instantly improving the hours of driving in quiet tension.

Waiting for the call was making Bryan grow more anxious by the minute. He'd been extremely surprised they hadn't gotten one right after leaving, sure Dean would've went to move the Colt under his pillow again, but both his and Claire's phones remained undisturbed. Bryan still wasn't convinced Dean hadn't noticed and decided not to call but have his fragile sister scry their location and was merely moments behind them in the Impala. He'd believe the man of all of it except having Morgan look for them with magic, that he expected the beautiful, young witch to do against her worried brothers' wishes and more than likely without their knowledge.

"So, how far to Chicago?" Bryan asked.

"I don't know how to break it to you that you're not gettin' deep dish for breakfast," Claire said simply, "but we might be there by lunch."

"Thin crust is better," Bryan said matter-of-factly.

"You're taste buds need work," Claire said.

"If I want a casserole, I'll eat'a casserole," Bryan gestured with his hand decisively on the steering wheel, "If I want pizza, I'm gonna have pizza. They do not need to be one in the same."

"You are so off I don't even know where to start," Claire stared at him with shocked amusement.

"With a knife and fork," Bryan smirked, "If you can't eat it with your hands, it's not pizza."

"I can't even talk to you right now," Claire laughed, "Seriously, I don't think you've tried it at a good place, last time I was in Chicago Dean took me to this place, it was," her words trailed away slowly and awkwardly after the introduction of the oldest Winchester's name.

Bryan nodded, trying to ease the sudden tension, "You might be right, you'll have to show me what I'm missin'."

"For sure," Claire forced a small grin and nod, turning her attention back to the map.

5:55a.m. Anytime now. Bryan's phone in his right pocket somehow felt heavier than the solid, 150-year-old pistol in his left, weighed down with dread over the inevitable call that would come. The rearview mirror had been clear for miles and none of the vehicles he'd seen could've been mistaken for the sleek, black Chevrolet, but he checked every few moments anyway. Dean wouldn't let the Colt go without a fight, but neither would Bryan.

"Shit," Claire turned her phone towards him, Dean's name flashed across the vibrating screen.

Bryan felt his throat squeeze with nausea and Claire turned her phone screen down on the map, it seemed to buzz forever, followed a minute later by a short voicemail alert. He felt his pocket start to shudder and a cold sensation crept down his back. Bryan didn't even reach for his phone, but every pulse burned into his ribs.

_**Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed the way this was written "backwards" I'm trying new things =) but tell me if you hate it!** _


	27. Chapter 27

_**Hi fam! You guys rock =) Thank you for taking time to review, however big the smile this story give you is, I promise the one I get with every new review is bigger- I write this for you and absolutely love that you're all still so into it- despite that weird time in part 2 when I went a little off the rails with the contraction dialogue... but we don't need to talk about that ;-) I've learned, you've helped me learn and you have no idea how greatly I appreciate that because, guess what, drum roll please** _

_**I FINISHED MY BOOK!!!** _

_**Writing it, I'm editing, but it's a real thing now! And really, it's a novel, I'm insane. If you follow Growin' up Guardian and already saw this note I'm still excited =) I'm realistically thinking I'll have it done by September if I'm going to maintain these updates, GuG's updates and oh, my real job haha** _

_**I'll be putting out updates about it on my Twitter to if anyone would like to follow me there my at handle on there is McgrathMollie and please remember I love to hear from you =)** _

**_Happy reading!_ **

Channing’s chubby, little hand patted Morgan’s knee again and she shook her head from a daze, flipping the page in his picture book quickly. Even the sweet toddler’s request for her to read him a story hadn’t proved distracting enough to keep her thoughts from Bryan and Claire. Thankfully, they’d reached the last page and, despite his insistence, Morgan promised Channing they would read it again later.

“You hungry?” she asked, satisfied when he was sufficiently sidetracked by the offer of food and leapt off her lap.

Morgan took slightly longer to uncross her legs and push off the floor of Garth and Channing’s room. Even with a shadow hovering over her mood, she found it impossible not to smile when his warm fingers slipped into her hand on their way into the hall. Garth walked out of the kitchen as they got closer.

“Hey, I was just comin’ to see if you needed a break,” he grinned, lifting his son into his arms when Channing waddle-sprinted at him.

“Lunch time,” Morgan informed him and Channing confirmed with an eager nod, nearly headbutting his father’s nose.

“Chicken or beef?” Garth joked, turning back into the kitchen with Channing.

“Hey, Garth, are my brothers around?” Morgan asked, glancing around the empty hallway.

“Sam’s in the library,” Garth jerked his head.

“And Dean?” she asked tentatively, not sure if she wanted to know where Dean was after his emotional state that morning.

“He and Castiel left-” Garth tried to call to Morgan as she stomped towards the library, but anger pulsed in her ears.

“Where the hell is he?!” she barked before even entering the open room and saw Sam start a bit at one of the library tables, slapping his laptop closed as he stood.

“Who?” Sam asked, “Dean?”

“Yes, Dean!” Morgan exclaimed, “Did you find Bryan and Claire? Are they going after them?”

“No, well, not now,” Sam shook his head and Morgan sighed, “Stop yellin’ at me. They’ll be back in a bit.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, grimacing apologetically while walking up the steps to the library.

“I know you’re upset,” he sighed, sitting back in his chair and kicking another out for her, “You have every right to be-”

“You shouldn’t be gettin’ the brunt of it, though,” Morgan said, dropping into the chair with a smirk as she continued, “You’re just easier than the other one.”

“The other one?” Sam chuckled.

“It’s like Voldemort,” Morgan scoffed, “when he’s like this, you don’t speak his name.”

“You just did,” Sam smirked.

“Yes, but I’m a powerful witch,” she shrugged with feigned smugness and they shared a quick laugh.

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Sam said, honesty glistening in his eyes. 

“What?” Morgan inclined her head.

“That you’re a powerful witch,” Sam grinned, “You were doubting yourself for a while there.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged modestly, “I’ll never be as powerful as I used to be, or could’ve-”

“Hey,” he interjected, “I thought you were passed that-”

“No, I am, Sam,” Morgan insisted, but he stole her brief pause to continue.

“Cause y’know what Cas ‘n Crowley said-”

“Yeah, I get it,” she tried not to snap, “I was gonna explode. I’m not unhappy with my powers, Sam, I promise.”

“I hope not,” he smirked, “Cause honestly I haven’t seen much of a difference since you go them back.”

“I feel it,” Morgan admitted, “but thank you. So where did Dean and Cas go?”

“Find Kate,” Sam said nonchalantly, but Morgan felt a little shiver down her forearms.

“Werewolf girl?” she asked calmly.

“I think she’s somewhere in her mid-twenties, but, yeah,” he nodded, inclining his head at her clear concern.

“Are her and Garth-” she began hesitantly.

“No!” Sam sat forward in his chair while shaking his head adamantly, “No, not at all, it’s nothing like that. She’s just a friend’a his that we happen to have ran into before-”

“Shocking,” Morgan said flatly and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Well, she’s hurt,” he said, “We’re gonna help her get back on her feet, that’s it.”

“Okay,” Morgan bit her lips together after the simple response

“What, okay?” Sam sighed.

“Nothin’,” she shook her head insistently.

“Spit it out,” he demanded gently.

“Look,” Morgan shrugged, “if you guys know her, and trust her, it’s fine.”

“We don’t necessarily trust her,” Sam admitted, “but she’s never screwed us in the past,” he stared at her several quiet moments before saying, “She actually killed her own sister to save us.”

Morgan’s eyebrows raised and she paused before saying, “Well, then I’m sure we don’t have anything to worry about.”

Sam nodded and his expression twisted earnestly as he began, “Hey, Morgan, I uh, I can understand, y’know, if you’re not up to talk about, it’s okay, but uh, I’m just wondering-”

“Spit it out,” she smirked.

“How’s Dad?” he asked, “Like, is he-”

“He’s happy,” she assured him, “He’s with your mom.”

The corners of Sam’s lips tugged up, “I’m glad you got to meet him.”

“Silver lining in a pretty bad situation,” Morgan agreed.

“Yeah,” he scoffed, “Nearly screwed the pooch on that one.”

“I’m fine,” she said defensively, adding, “Now,” when he narrowed his eyes.

“Seriously, Morgan, I hope you learned somethin’ from that,” Sam leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, “You don’t know how happy I am it turned out alright, but it easily could not have.”

“I know,” she agreed docilly, “I’m sorry.”

“Good,” he nodded, “but I wanna know you’re not gonna do something like ignore the repeated warnings of a much older witch who’s helping you.”

“It was dumb,” Morgan grimaced, “I know, and yes, I did learn from it.”

“You better, ‘cause defending Rowena gives me the urge to shower,” he said without a trace of amusement until his sister giggled.

“So, we any closer to finding Ocean’s two?” Morgan asked, finding it easier to refer to Bryan and Claire with nicknames like her brothers, though for a very different reason she was sure.

“Good one,” Sam chuckled, “But unfortunately, no. And you don’t have  _any_  ideas where they’d be headed?”

“I really don’t,” she admitted defeatedly, “I mean, neither, of them, have, like-”

“Family,” Sam finished the awkward truth and Morgan nodded, “No, they don’t. They could’ve gone literally anywhere. But why take the Colt?”

Morgan expelled a bitter breath, “He thought it was his.”

“He told you that?” Sam’s eyes widened.

“Not directly,” she shook her head, “But I saw it in his eyes every time he looked at the thing.”

Sam nodded slowly, biting his lips together, “Yeah, never thought he’d’ve done this though.”

“It really doesn’t make sense,” Morgan’s voice broke a little, but she swallowed hard, determined not to cry, “I mean, sure Dean was pissed about us sleeping in the same bed-”

“I wasn’t thrilled to hear about that either,” Sam interjected.

“Yeah, but, you know what I mean,” she pushed on, “It just doesn’t make sense that Bryan and Claire would leave,  _with_ the Colt. Why? I thought-”

“What?” Sam encouraged when Morgan’s words stopped short.

“I thought they cared about me,” she spit out quickly, her eyes stinging with tears.

“Of course they do,” Sam insisted.

“Then why leave?” Morgan’s voice broke with her question.

“Maybe they thought they were doin’ the right thing,” Sam speculated and she scoffed, “I’m not saying it makes sense, but I hate to think either of them would be so ungrateful.”

“I know,” Morgan shook her head, “But we can’t sit around forever hopin’ they’ll turn the GPS on their phones back on.”

“I know,” Sam smirked, “If you’re up for it, when Dean gets back.”

“It’s just a normal scrying session, Sam,” she promised, “what I did with Rowena-”

“I know,” he nodded, “but that doesn’t make us less nervous about watching you go back in a trance.”

“I get it,” Morgan bit her lips together, “When’s Dean gonna be back anyway?”

“Hour or so,” Sam shrugged, “You sure you’re okay with Kate?”

“Yeah,” Morgan nodded, “I’m just, I’m just weird right now.”

Sam expelled a light scoff, “Yeah, I get that.”

“I just don’t get it,” she said sadly, more to herself than her brother.

“Me either,” he too sounded lost in his thoughts.

For a few minutes they sat in silence, then Sam scooted his chair back to the table and flipped open his laptop.

“What’re you doing anyway?” Morgan asked.

“Breaking into Claire and Bryan’s emails, banks accounts, phone records,” he turned with a grin, “Y’know, the usual.”

“Of course,” she smirked, “Find anything good?”

“So far,” he began, “No. But I’ve only managed to get into Bryan’s accounts.”

“Why?” she furrowed her brow and Sam sighed.

“Because I didn’t encrypt Bryan’s stuff while giving him step by step directions how to,” he said flatly.

“Ah,” Morgan shared his disappointed sigh, “So, basically, Claire has all your tricks, making her fairly impossible to track down? By your means any-”

“Morgan,” Sam said testily, “I said when Dean gets back, don’t push me.”

“I’m not,” she put her hands up defensively, “Just making an observation.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, “Observe better word choices next time.”

Morgan rolled her eyes, but Sam had turned back to his laptop again. Pulling her phone from her sweatshirt pocket, she opened a few apps habitually before going to her messages. Staring at the draft she’d written, waiting for just a quick press of the send button to fly off to Bryan and Claire. It would be an interesting transition from the  _Rocket Racoon_ gif Bryan had sent a few days earlier in their group chat, if she ever got the courage to send it.

_I don’t know where the fuck you two are, or why the hell you left, but I’d really like to. This doesn’t make sense. And why the fuck would you steal my brother’s gun?! I deserve a fucking reason! Why did you leave?_

“So, there’s either hotels we can’t afford, or motels I’m pretty sure we’re gonna be shot at?” Bryan said, swiping through the list of nearby lodgings on his phone, utilizing the free WiFi in a McDonald’s parking lot near Chicago’s city limits.

“You’re such a pussy,” Claire scoffed, “But we can stay at the Hilton if you-”

“We can’t use cards,” Bryan repeated for what he was sure was at least the third time, “they’re watching our-”

“I’d like to see Sam break into my shit,” Claire insisted, again.

“He helped you encrypt it,” Bryan insisted, again, but adding, “Even if it takes him some time, he’s gonna get in.”

Claire offered the same relenting eye roll she had the last few times they’d had the debate and Bryan was sure that wouldn’t be the end of it.

“We can do this Days Inn,” he turned his phone, but Claire hardly glanced at the three-star motel off the highway.

“Yea, sure,” she agreed, “but you better be planning on givin’ them a lot of money if we’re not gonna use a credit card.”

“What’s a bribe usually cost you?” Bryan asked.

“Less than it’s gonna cost you,” Claire smirked, “Seriously though, unless you’ve got a plan to make some extra cash, don’t go spending all you’ve got on some dirt bag motel. C’mon, we’ll stay one night somewhere, check out ‘n stay somewhere else, if they do break into my accounts we’ll be at least one step ahead of them by the time they get here.”

He’d hoped to have had this part of the plan figured out by the time they got close to the city and sighed before the relenting statement left his lips, “Fine, but I don’t wanna regret this.”

“You won’t, we’ll be fine,” she promised while a satisfied smile crept across her face.

Bryan was very sure he would regret it, but looked up the directions to  _Days Inn_  anyway before his phone lost WiFi access as they left the lot. He managed to find it in the maze of busy streets, only getting lost once, and pulled in front of the check-in office. Bryan’s hands were shaking, but he kept them firmly on the wheel, and Claire pushed out of the Grand National with a promise she’d be right back. Which she was, only minutes later, with a room key and directed him to the back of the motel property. He flexed his cramped fingers after tossing the Buick in park and sighed at the peeling paint of room 120 before following Claire out of the car.

“The guy at the desk said there’s a bar a block over,” Claire said, tossing her bag on the bed nearest the door.

Bryan picked her bag up and set it on the foot of the second bed, dropping his own duffel on the one she’d tried to claim and smirked at her confused brow furrow, “I know you don’t need me to protect you, but I’d feel better sleepin’ closer to the door.”

Expelling a soft laugh, Claire shrugged, “I’m gonna wash up ‘n then maybe we can head to that bar, hustle a game or two?”

“You must have a lotta confidence in y’rself,” he chuckled, “I’d rather stake out the Gold Coast and get our bearings, the job, y’know.”

Claire rolled her eyes, but finished with a wink before disappearing behind the bathroom door.

Bryan pulled his phone out, grabbing the instruction pamphlet for the motel’s WiFi from the middle nightstand and sank onto the worn mattress. It took a few minutes to access without paying, but Bryan was swiping through his maps app by the time Claire left the bathroom.

“Gold Coast is like forty minutes from here,” Bryan looked up with surprise and back at his phone, checking if he made a mistake in the location.

“Sounds right,” Claire shrugged, “Chicago’s a big place.”

He expelled a hard scoff, “Even with all your fake credit cards we couldn’t afford one’a these hotels. Look at this! Four-ninety-five, for a night!”

“You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy,” she smirked, “Wait ‘til you see what a beer costs.”

“I’ll save my money thanks,” Bryan muttered, tossing his phone on the bed.

“C’mon,” Claire crossed her arms, “I haven’t had a real drink in months, we just drove an entire day, grab your fake, we’re goin’ to the bar.”

He stared at her for a few moments, but finally sighed while slipping off his jacket, relenting to her request before she continued wearing him down, which was inevitable, “Let me change my shirt.”

“Got anything that doesn’t make you look like a country boy?” she teased as he dug a black and green flannel out of his bag.

“Blue?” he smirked, tugging another flannel out a bit and Claire rolled her eyes.

“People are gonna think you’re a redneck,” she said flatly.

“Good, they’ll think I’ve got a gun,” Bryan nodded, turning to the bathroom.

“You do have a gun,” Claire commented dryly.

“Two,” he whipped his head around with a confident wink, but, the moment the bathroom door was between them, Bryan’s smile vanished and he hung his head over the sink.

He looked again at his phone and the small icon in the top corner that had been torturing him for hours. Dean’s voicemail he still hadn’t forced himself to listen to, knowing it wouldn’t bring anything but further turmoil to his already twisted emotions. But his phone was getting heavier every minute it sat unheard and Bryan turned the sink on before tapping play, immediately turning the volume down as he pressed it firmly to his ear.

“You don’t get to fuckin’ ignore me right now, Bryan!” Dean’s livid voice echoed through the speaker, gaining volume with every word, “This is the thanks I get after what I’ve done for you?! You  _steal_  from me?!” a sudden, literal growl forced Bryan to pull the phone from his head and the low, threatening tone that followed sent chills down his spine, “You can bet your sorry,  _stupid_  ass I’m gonna find you, and I’m gonna hurt you, you FUCKING BASTARD!”

His ear was hot when Bryan pulled the phone away, unsure how much longer he’d stood frozen as Dean screaming ‘fucking bastard’ revolved in his thoughts. His eyes slowly registered their reflection in the bathroom mirror, shadowed with guilt, anger and pain.

He couldn’t save his mom, the promise he’d made to keep her safe broken. Sure, he knew his father had laid the responsibility as a paternal protocol every time he’d left for a hunt, but he wasn’t a child anymore and should’ve done more. The classes with Ms. Rice haunted him day and night, he should’ve known. If they’d left, Bryan knew his mom would still be alive. But Morgan he could save. He would save.

“Hey,” Claire knocked sharply on the door, “You fall in?”

Bryan expelled a short laugh and yelled back, “My dead grandfather called, he wants his joke back.”

“He can fight me for it,” Claire said, “I love killin’ zombies.”

Bryan shook his head before dipping it over the sink of still running water and splashed his face. He pulled his stale t-shirt over his head, wiping his face with the inside and tossed it on the closed toilet behind himself. The mirror was just low enough to give him a glimpse of the scars from those few, excruciating hours he’d spent in the school’s basement. He’d been their prize, though even then Bryan had thought the blood sucking, substitute teachers were taking their sweet time when they’d be better off killing him. But they’d enjoyed the torture, promising Bryan he’d take every bit of pain that should’ve been given to his father and grandfather. He’d spit in Mr. Stoker’s face and told him to bring it on. Even Morgan’s magic hadn’t been able to completely fade the deep slice the vampire had made in Bryan’s side as he’d wiped the young man’s spit from his snarling lips.

Bryan pulled on a fresh shirt, followed by his flannel, but didn’t bother buttoning it, since Claire was calling impatiently again and snatched his dirty shirt before leaving the bathroom.

“Y’ready princess?” she scoffed, pushing off the bed.

“Man, you really want a beer,” he made sure his comment didn’t sound as bitter as he meant it to be.

“The last time the guys and Morgan saw that demon bitch here was on the outskirts,” Claire crossed her arms, “I think it’s beneficial for us to check the perimeter and work our way in. What about you?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bryan forced his grin to seem genuine, but Claire squinted at him a moment before turning towards the front door.

“Let’s head then,” she said with her back to him.

Bryan made sure his wallet was in his back pocket and shoved his phone in his front, noticing it felt no less heavy than before Dean’s words were echoing in his head. He shrugged on his jacket and ensured the Colt was still in his inside pocket before following Claire passed the door she was holding open. She wouldn’t be easy to ditch, but Bryan doubted Claire would see it coming, and he’d make sure she was alright. He wouldn’t be responsible for anyone else’s death, only Dagon’s and any other evil sons of bitches he could take out along the way.

_**Thank you for being with me, I love your support and it gave me the confidence to finish a novel =)** _


	28. Chapter 28

_**This is a half chapter, but I figured you guys would prefer something to waiting another week for me to finish so this is Bryan and Claire, next chapter we'll see the bunker again. Also, I'm kinda down right now and could use my people =)** _

_**Happy reading!** _

Bryan hadn't needed his fake ID, the bartender hardly glanced at him when Claire ordered two beers confidently before they took a high-top table in the back corner. He sipped his, hardly halfway through the bottle by the time Claire was sliding off the stool to get a second.

"Alright, seriously," he tried to hide his frustration, "What the hell are we doin' here?"

"I'm getting a beer," she said flatly.

"Yeah, and then what?" Bryan challenged.

Claire scowled at him, but, when Bryan matched it with his own, she sighed, "I'm sorry, I haven't been in the real world for a long time, at least not without chaperones. Just, please, let me have a minute."

"It's not your minute to have, Claire," Bryan said plainly, "We're here on a job, I wasn't just helping you jailbreak the Winchesters, I thought we were gonna plan this out."

She grimaced apologetically, taking a step to their table and setting her empty beer down, "You're right. But where do we start?"

"We're here," Bryan smirked, nodding out the window at the heavy traffic outside, "Closer than we were a few hours ago. We just gotta-"

"Naw, Matty, they got all sorts'a security in those places," two men walked into the bar and the one wearing a bright yellow shirt with the logo of an electrical company on the back spoke in a naturally boisterous voice while addressing the squat man in a dark blue mechanic uniform, who was no further than a foot from him.

Matty scoffed and began nearly as loudly as his friend, "I can get around any'a that shit. An' what're y'talkin' about? Pauley, the fuckin' power was out, ain't no security shit workin' when the whole goddamn building's outta power," he laughed, slapping his friend on the shoulder, "Y'gotta tell me those people were losin' their shit! Fuckin' Gold Coast!"

Bryan and Claire locked eyes briefly, simultaneously lowering their gazes to the table and listened hard, not that it was necessary. Pauley continued at the same volume.

"Man, it would've been funnier if it weren't for all the goddamn cops, 'n firefighters, 'n holy shit the EMT's!" he laughed harshly, "You'd'a thought the building had been bombed! Some lady got caught in the elevator for a few hours, I'm not kiddin' you man, she went, to the fucking, hospital. Dehydration and trauma! Bitch, I was workin' up 'n down those stairs gettin' y'r'power back on and didn't nobody let me sit down for water break, you took a three-hour nap in an elevator with a bench. You fuckin' kiddin' me?"

They laughed, clinking together bottles they hadn't ordered, evidently being regular enough not to have to, and there was a lull in the volume of the bar as they drank. Claire tapped her empty bottle on the table, sliding again from the stool, and pointed at Bryan.

"Need another one?" she asked, loud enough for the pair of laborers at the bar to notice a pretty blonde was a backtracking towards them.

"All set," Bryan gave her an angry grin, which Claire returned with a wink before spinning around, her hair flying behind her mesmerizingly.

No part of him could disagree with the fact that these guys were the best lead they could have possible stumbled upon, but it didn't stop Bryan's blood from boiling when Matty nudged Pauley and jerked his head at Claire.

"Hey, girly," Matty smiled widely, "Don't know you. You new or passin' through?"

Claire thanked the bartender for the fresh beer, turning slowly to lean against the bar and looked Matty up and down before saying, "I'm not sure yet, tryin' to see what this town has to offer first."

He expelled a breathy laugh, "This is The Shy, baby," Bryan forced himself to take a long gulp at the stranger's endearment, but continued listening, "Anything you'd want is here."

"Who's baby?" Claire lowered her head, but her expression wasn't nearly as threatening as Bryan knew it could be.

"Aw, I'm sorry," Matty dipped his head, pressing his beer to his chest, before turning earnestly to his friend and back, saying, "That's just somethin' I call pretty girls when I don't know their name, y'know, baby, sweetheart, darlin', but uh, I'm Matty, this is my buddy, Pauley. What's y'r'name?"

Claire's eyes flickered at Bryan less than a moment, returning to Matty with a smirk as she raised her beer and said, "Alex."

"Alex, nice t'meet'cha," Matty jerked his head across the bar and locked eyes with Bryan, "What's y'r'boyfriend's name?"

"Jim," Claire said quickly enough for Bryan to realize she'd been caught off guard, the hidden pain that briefly crossed her eyes was further proof of how often that name was forefront in her thoughts.

"Jimmy!" Matty yelled, waving Bryan over with his free hand, oblivious to the brief shock of anger in Claire's face.

Bryan slid his beer off the table, pressing his arm against his side to ensure the Colt's position, and forced a grin as he approached, pulling Claire into his side with an arm around her waist. She hid her surprise well, but he still couldn't help a ' _this was your idea'_  smirk.

"So, how d'you like it here?" Matty's question was directed at Bryan.

"Haven't seen much of it yet," he shrugged, "Heard good things 'bout the food, though."

"Best pizza you'll ever eat," Matty said proudly.

"I'm not into the deep-dish thing," Bryan said, unsure why he was trying to ruffle their feathers, neither one of them looked easy to take in a fight.

"Fuck that shit!" Pauley interjected with a hard laugh, almost slamming his beer on the bar, "That's for tourists 'n outta town family. Real Chicagoan's eat thin crust, cracker thin, crispy 'n all," he hummed a moment before calling for the bartender, "Hey Ren, call me in a pizza delivery would'ja?"

"I want sausage!" Matty yelled and Ren waved him off as she walked around a corner.

"She really gonna order you a pizza?" Bryan asked.

"Fuck yeah," Pauley laughed, "Jimmy, this place is my home, Ren is like my wife, hell, I've been with Ren longer than I've been with my wife!"

While he and Matty nearly fell over each other laughing, Bryan and Claire took the opportunity to exchange enough expressions for her to understand that he wanted their chat to wrap up quickly and she was determined to get as much information as possible. Matty was doing an obnoxious amount of talking, since he wasn't the one they were interested in charming into a conversation, and Bryan tried to direct his next comment at the electrician.

"I might be lookin' for a job up here," Bryan shrugged, his eyes locked on Pauley, "How long you been doin' electrician work?"

"Younger than you," he said, sipping his beer and looked back at Bryan, "Don't start makin' the good money for a while."

"When did you become a journeyman?" Bryan's question was met with surprised eyebrows from Pauley, who sat up a bit straighter on his bar stool.

"Twen'y-one years now," he said proudly, "Though, back then there weren't all the bureaucratic bullshit with the unions there is now. Well, there was, I thought there was, but it's gotten so much worse."

"Unions," Bryan sighed, neither negatively or positively, earning an appreciative nod from both men, "So, y'like workin' on houses or buildings better?"

Pauley scoffed, "I can't remember the last time I worked in a house, 'sept my own or my daughter's," tapping Matty on the shoulder he laughed, "Y'know that kid she married, box a rocks, can't flip a goddamn breaker, least she does, but the other day she calls me, this genius pulled the dishwasher out 'cause somethin' went under it, 'n pulls the fuckin' hose out, thing's just  _hemorrhaging_  water!"

"Divorces are cheaper than kids," Matty smiled and sipped his beer.

"Oh God, don't joke," Pauley laughed, kissing his finger tips and raising them above himself.

"Yeah, we haven't seen a lot of houses," Bryan said in the moment break as they sipped their beers, trying to get back on track, "Everybody pretty much live in apartments here?"

"Lots," Pauley nodded, "But there's houses all over too."

"But you do mostly building work?" Bryan's gut twisted when Pauley narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him.

"What's with the twen'y questions, kid?" he scoffed lightly.

"Nothin'," Bryan shrugged, "Just curious what kinda work I could expect to find up here."

"You a mechanic?" Matty interjected, "Dealership I'm at's lookin' for a new guy."

"I dabble," Bryan admitted, "But just to keep my own beast runnin'."

"What'cha got, Jimmy?" Matty asked.

"Eight-seven Grand National," Bryan expected the awed looks and was not disappointed.

"No shit!" Matty expelled a laugh, "That's the one car Buick did right. Man, you hold onto that."

"You drive it here?" Pauley asked eagerly, "I've only seen those at car shows."

"Not far," Bryan jerked his head in the general direction of the motel, "Y'r'welcome to check it out."

Claire pinched his side, but Bryan gave her a quick glare. She couldn't expect him to trust her without her trusting him too.

"Hell, yeah," Matty downed his beer and no less than dropped the bottle on the bar, slapping his friend on the shoulder, "C'mon, Pauley."

"How far we talkin'?" Pauley asked, "I'm beat, too many damn stairs today."

"How many floors can there really be?" Bryan scoffed lightly, receiving the exact look he hoped for from the electrician.

"Hundreds," Pauley laughed, shaking his head, "Jimmy boy, where you from?"

"Kansas," Bryan said, there was no reason to lie about that and he was proud of where he was from, which caused a rise of heat in his ears when Matty and Pauley laughed.

"Well, Dorothy," Pauley winked, "You're in the land of the wizard now."

"I haven't seen the yellow brick road yet," Bryan smirked, squeezing Claire inconspicuously as he found his in, "But we haven't made it to the Gold Coast yet."

Pauley scoffed hard, "Y'ain't missin' much, trust me. You two wanna have some fun go check out the Mag Mile or Boys Town even, though you'd better watch him over there, girly," he chuckled with a wink at Claire.

"Isn't there a beach up there that's really nice?" Claire asked nonchalantly.

But Pauley shook his head, "If y'got the money it's nice, those folks over there got money comin' outta there, er, ears."

"Not enough to keep the power on though, huh?" Bryan chuckled and so did Pauley, but, again, he shook his head.

"It was weird, man," he began thoughtfully, "Just the one building on Lake Shore 'n Banks, total loss, we couldn't even figure out why, just fiddled with stuff 'til it worked. Condo places near it reported a surge, but it didn't last, not like this. Three hours without power and a team of journeymen electricians can't figure out why."

Claire dug her nails into Bryan's back excitedly and he pinched her gently to stop, he could only hide so much pain and she had impressively sharp nails.

"That's weird," Bryan agreed, "Couldn't track a source?"

"I'm sayin', Jim," he tossed his hands in the air, "Weirdest job I've ever worked, and you couldn't pay me enough t'go back t'that penthouse," he shivered dramatically.

Matty whipped wide eyes at his friend, "Duvall's place?" Pauley nodded into his beer, tipping it back for another swig, "Fuck that family, creepy, incestuous pieces of shit."

"Who's that?" Bryan asked innocently.

"Just a big name family 'round here," Pauley said, "But weirdos for sure."

"A'right, c'mon," Matty urged, "I wanna see this mint Grand National, finish y'r'beer."

"I never said it was mint," Bryan chuckled, "She's got quite a few miles on her."

"That's what cars are built for, Jimmy," Matty smiled.

Claire scratched Bryan's lower back eagerly as she slid her arm away and he squeezed her side, equally as excited about the information they'd miraculously happened upon.

_**More soon- any love you feel like sending is hugely appreciated right now** _


	29. Chapter 29

**_Hi everyone, sorry this is a bit late on my normal schedule, I had a crazy busy week at work before I went on vacation and, while I did bring my computer, I confess I got very little writing done. The Family Business Beer Company beer is amazing though, I should tell you I had the best time there, super chill, good drink, good people, though damn is Texas hot hahaha I'll stick to the lake breeze but it was a fun visit =)_ **

 

“Hey, anybody here!” Dean’s voice echoed through the hall.

“In here!” Sam yelled, shutting the refrigerator door with near obvious relief that he no longer had to decide on dinner.

Channing’s attention was, at that point, sufficiently stolen from the coloring pages Morgan had hardly found useful in keeping his attention anyway, and let him slide off her lap, walking slowly behind him while he toddled towards the kitchen doorway. Dean’s entrance encouraged an excited giggle from the little boy, but, when Kate walked through the next moment, he scurried instantly behind Morgan’s leg.

The tall, skinny woman with short blonde hair, turned her head nervously about the room, forcing a grin at Morgan before her eyes fell on Channing.

“Hey, buddy, remember me?” she crouched a bit and smiled widely at Channing, Morgan felt him shake his head against the back of her knee.

“Kate, you remember Sam,” Dean dumped his duffel bag on the floor next to counter and pulled the refrigerator open, “Beer? Cas, y’want a, damn it, where the hell did he go?”

“I think he said he’d be in the library,” Kate said, taking a beer from Dean.

Dean smirked at the door as he popped his beer, “Should probably listen to him sometimes.”

“Y’think?” Sam scoffed lightly, taking the beer Dean had just opened and sliding onto the counter with his long legs dangling.

“Hi, I’m Kate,” the blonde werewolf stuck her hand out to Morgan.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Sam and Dean said together before the younger continued, “Kate this is our sister Morgan, Morgan, this is Kate.”

“Hi,” she forced a small grin, shaking Kate’s cold, boney hand and noticed the bloody scratches running underneath her jacket.

“It’s not a secret I got caught up in some trouble is it?” she laughed sadly and the Winchesters shook their heads, “Well, I’m alive, there’s that.”

“I can fix that,” Morgan offered, but Kate shook her head adamantly before she hardly finished.

“No, thank you, but no,” she said.

“Cas already tried,” Dean scoffed and leveled Kate with a raised eyebrow, “You’re being ridiculous, you’re punishing yourself for no reason.”

“Well, you’d know better than anyone what that looks like,” Morgan said, earning a surprised smile from Sam and a shocked stare from Dean.

Kate giggled and winked at Morgan before turning to Dean, “She’s definitely your sister.”

He offered a sarcastic grin, but it fell into an unamused smirk when his eyes shifted to Morgan, who smiled sweetly and picked up Channing onto her hip.

“Uh-uh,” Dean shook his head, “Y’can’t use the kid as a shield.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she smirked and whispered into Channing’s ear, loud enough for everyone to hear, “You won’t let Dean get me, right?” the little boy giggled and shook his head.

“I can get passed you,” Dean scoffed at Channing, taking a feigned, threatening step towards them and the little boy barred his teeth, growling with far more confidence than his three-foot stature should allow.

Dean actually seemed briefly surprised and froze in his advancement before joining the others in a quick laugh.

“Channing,” Garth walked in the kitchen, clearly prepared to scold his son for growling, but smiled with surprise, “Kate you’re here!”

“Just got in,” she returned Garth’s hug, wincing a little a he squeezed her.

“I wasn’t expectin’ you guys for another few hours,” he let her go, shaking his head with happy surprise.

“Dean has an aversion to going the speed limit,” Kate scoffed lightly.

“You’re here, you’re alive,” Dean took a sip of his beer and shrugged, “I don’t see the problem.”

Kate smiled at him, but it fell quickly and she sighed, “I’m gonna have to find a new car.”

“Sam ‘n I can help you with that,” Dean nodded at his younger brother.

Morgan couldn’t help the fearful, wide eyes that swept her brothers, but Sam offered a small head shake and reassuring expression, silently promising Dean was not referring to the Mustang.

“Morgan,” Garth began, gently rubbing his son’s back while he stayed in content in her arms, “Could I bother you to keep an ear on him tonight? I’d like to, uh, go out for a bit if I can.”

“You should,” Dean agreed, jerking his head at the refrigerator, “There’s not much left in there, not with three of you here.”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem,” Morgan nodded and looked quizzically at Channing, “I think were hungry though, hmm?”

He nodded so vigorously his mop of light hair flopped on his head and Morgan giggled, handing him over at Garth’s insistence.

“I’ll give you a break,” he grinned.

“You mind if I tag along?” Kate asked hopefully.

“Of course!” Garth answered brightly, shaking his head quickly and said, “I don’t mind, I mean.”

“Morgan, would you show Kate to the room next to Garth’s for me?” Dean asked, taking another sip of his beer.

“Bryan’s?” she felt a pain in her chest the moment his name accidently spilled passed her lips.

“He ain’t usin’ it,” Dean shrugged indifferently.

Morgan’s gut rolled, but she forced a quick nod at her brother and a grin at Kate, “C’mon, I’ll show you,” but she didn’t miss the angry glare Sam was fixing Dean with as they left.

“I’m really sorry to intrude,” Kate said when they were alone in the hallway.

“You’re not,” Morgan tried to sound as convincing as she could.

“They think I’ll be safe here,” she continued.

“You will,” Morgan nodded, the bunker, at least, she was sure of.

“You don’t know who’s after me,” Kate scoffed lightly as they approached the room Bryan had been inhabiting and Morgan’s anger compiled into a bitter response.

“Phelan?” she raised a threatening eyebrow, continuing as soon as Kate’s surprise admitted Morgan’s guess was accurate, “Obviously my brother and Cas haven’t told you much. I’m number one on that rabid dog’s list.”

She saw the crease of pain cross Kate’s face momentarily at the word “dog”, but Morgan didn’t care, pushing open the door to the all too familiar room.

“Bathroom’s across the hall,” she gestured with a lazy hand, “Garth’s next door, Sam, Dean, ‘n I are down by the kitchen and,” Morgan’s eyes landed on Claire’s bedroom door and her throat tightened with angry pain, “uh, that’s it, Cas doesn’t sleep, so, if y’need anyone.”

Before Kate could even thank her for the brief tour, Morgan turned and strode towards her bedroom, trying not to slam the door behind herself, though hardly succeeding. She threw herself on her bed, her chest so tight from anger and sadness, while the questions that had haunted her since the moment she learned her friends had left bounced around her mind, the tears streaming down her cheeks and onto her pillow were inevitable.

A quick knock her door was faint and followed by the creek of its hinges and a quiet snap of the latch. Morgan turned slightly when the side of her bed sank and Sam smiled sadly, his hand pushing her dark hair from her wet face.

“I’m sorry our brother is an insensitive idiot,” Sam said, “If it helps at all, he really just is that stupid and feels really bad now that I, uh, pointed out that putting that on you was a real douche move.”

Morgan smiled, “Thanks, Sam.”

“You know I got y’r’back,” he smirked, “He, uh, he wants to apologize, I told him he can’t come in unless you say it’s okay.”

Morgan giggled, wiping her eyes and sniffling, “I’m prob’ly gonna yell at him.”

“Deserved,” Sam nodded, making Morgan giggle as one last sob passed her lips and he pulled her into his arms, “He loves you, Sweetie, he’s just, really, really dumb sometimes.”

“It’s true,” Dean said from the doorway, closing himself in the room with them when they whipped their attention to him.

“Dean-” Sam began with a sigh.

“I’ve never been a patient man, Sammy, y’know this,” Dean interjected, leaning against Morgan’s desk and turning his gaze to her, “I’m sorry, kid, really, honest to Chuck, I didn’t think about it,” he dipped his head, shaking it before returning with a deeply apologetic expression, “I haven’t thought about your feelings at all since,  _this_ , all went down. As pissed as I am about the Colt,” he sighed deeply, “I know what it’s like to have close friends, just, disappear. I’m sorry, Morgan, I really am, I’m angry at them for making you hurt more than I could ever be about that gun, I’m sorry that I haven’t made that clear to you,” he sighed again, nodding his head to the side, “More the opposite I think.”

“Yeah, empathy’s hard,” Morgan said dryly, suppressing a smile when Sam burst into a short laugh.

“Really, Sweetie,” he sighed pathetically, “How can I make it up to you?”

Morgan smirked, shifting her gaze to Sam, who returned her sneaky smile.

“Jeezus I’m gonna regret this,” Dean grumbled.

“I want you to let me find them,” she said simply, unsurprised when Sam’s smile vanished.

“We said we-” Dean began.

“Now,” Morgan insisted before he could continue with some excuse about timing, “The longer we wait the more time they have.”

Sam and Dean exchanged unhappy expressions, but Dean sighed as he nodded and said, “Okay, but I swear, you do anything stupid-”

“I can’t-” she tried.

“ _If you do anything stupid_ ,” Dean repeated louder before lowering his voice, and his gaze, “Your ass is gonna pay for it.”

“Fine,” Morgan spit out bitterly, “Can I find them now?”

“Fine,” Dean nearly growled.

Morgan slid off her bed, avoiding Sam’s eyes, sure he was fixing her with disapproval, but her focus was on her crystals and, within moments, succeeded in willing them to her clasped fist.

“I’ll get the lights,” Dean said, pushing off the desk and flipping the light switch just as Morgan finished arranging her crystals on the floor.

The familiar incantation flooded her brain, pushing all other thoughts and burdens aside, and a warm breeze rushed through her, taking Morgan’s focus away from her bedroom. It was exhilarating to be back in the seeing world, flying against time, passed reality and to an almost familiar street where Claire and Bryan walked, laughing together.

She managed to keep her anger under control, holding herself in the right frame of mind to maintain the session. Smells engulfed her senses, bringing Morgan back to the many days and nights she’d wandered the neighborhood streets of Chicago, every one filled with the linger scents of warm food mixed with the stench of the river. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind and the four, six-point stars faded on the side of a building confirmed it before she even looked for a street sign. Cicero and Jackson.

Taking in their surroundings was easier than observing the two walking side by side, enjoying what must have been a very amusing joke. Claire’s giggle made her burn with anger and Bryan’s laugh brought sadness Morgan couldn’t fight, feeling a chill rush through her as the pair and the Chicago street faded rapidly.

Lifting her head with a deep breath, Morgan’s eyes landed on Dean, whipping around to find Sam, but he wasn’t there.

“Garth knocked a second ago,” he told her and Morgan nodded.

“Chicago,” she said, shaking her head, “Why the hell would they-”

Her eyes went wide at Dean as the most terrible thought came to mind, he stared with confusion several moments before his expression mirrored Morgan’s.

“They wouldn’t,” he said firmly, “That’s suicide!”

“Wouldn’t they?” Morgan insisted, nearly yelling at her brother, “Dagon has no idea who they are, they probably think they can sneak up on her! This is Claire’s dream hunt, and Bryan, he’s,” Morgan trailed off, unable to consider any reason Bryan would put himself in such grave danger.

“He’s trying to protect you,” Dean said in a subdued tone, almost a whisper, grinning sadly when his sister’s eyes met his, “Does it surprise you?”

“I don’t know,” Morgan said, truly too shocked to consider if she should be or not.

“Hey, you’re back,” Sam said, slipping into the room with a humming baby monitor in his hand, “What’d I miss?”

“Dumb and Dumber are in Chicago,” Dean said and they both stared at Sam, though it didn’t take him half as long as Dean for his jaw to gape open.

“That’s suicide!” Sam scoffed angrily.

“Kid’s got a death wish one way or the other,” Dean muttered, pushing himself to stand from the edge of the bed he’d been sitting on, “We better hit the road.”

“You’re not leaving without me,” Morgan said firmly, jumping to her feet.

“Oh, you’re not coming,” Dean shook his head.

“Like hell I’m not,” she scoffed, “Try to leave, see how far Baby gets before the engine seizes,” she finished her threat with a short burst of purple fire between her fingers, closing her fist to extinguish the flame.

“Oh, kid,” Dean’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared, “You will find yourself in the biggest world of hurt if you pull your abra-kadabra shit on my Baby, I should beat your ass for the threat.”

“Okay, look,” Sam interjected, “We have a little bit to argue about this, Garth and Kate just took off and Channing’s asleep,” he waived the monitor at them, “Dean, get your stuff together-”

“My stuff’s always ready-” he began.

“Dude,” Sam sneered, “I don’t know if it’s a seventeen-year-old beef stick or a pair’a your socks, but something in that bag reeks, find it, please.”

“Whatever,” Dean rolled his eyes and strode to the door, turning back on Morgan before he left, “I’m not changin’ my mind.”

She managed to wait until his back was to her before throwing a rude hand gesture in his direction.

Sam opened his mouth in a manner that she knew would offer a defense of Dean’s reasoning, cutting him off before he had a chance.

“Take me or I’ll magic myself there,” she said simply, unsurprised to watch shock turn to bitterness on Sam’s face.

“Stay here,” he grumbled after a moment, “I’ll be right back.”

Morgan stopped the swinging door with her foot as he left, kicking it open gently, ensuring any rustling in the bunker’s inhabited side could be heard. Heard, but not understood. Behind Dean’s closed door her brothers were conversing in low, quiet voices, impossible to hear audibly.

“Hello, Morgan,” she jumped as Cas appeared at her side.

“Jeezus you’re quiet,” she gasped.

“Why are your brothers planning on leaving for Chicago soon?” he asked, inclining his head at the door.

“Can you hear them?” Morgan whispered excitedly.

“Of course,” Cas inclined his head at her, but the door caught his attention again, “They’ve found Claire?”

“I did,” she said dryly, “And I’m going with to get them.”

“You should,” he nodded simply, “You’ll be able to find them faster than any of us.”

“Can you tell Dean that?” she chuckled darkly.

Cas turned to the door, but cringed a moment later and said, “Sam seems to be on top of it.”

“Wimp,” Morgan muttered, earning a sideways glare from the angel.

But, if Cas had a response, he missed his opportunity when Dean’s door flung open and Sam pushed into the hallway first, their older brother following with frustration set in his jaw.

“You don’t give ultimatums,” he growled, pointed a firm finger at Morgan, “If I say no, it’s no, and there’s a reason for it.”

“That doesn’t work for me,” she crossed her arms and leveled him with an even harder glare.

“Excuse me?” Dean blinked slowly.

“I’m going, whether you take me or not,” she promised, “It’s not an ultimatum, it’s a fact.”

“Oh Brat,” he expelled a sharp breath, “Your ass is gonna be too sore to do more than fly yourself icepacks.”

“Go ahead,” Morgan took an intimidating step right in front of Dean, snarling as she said, “You can chain me in the dungeon too, I’m still going. They are my friends, I’m the one that gets to confront them!”

“Morgan,” he growled, “You’re on thin ice, kid.”

“I don’t care, Dean,” she scoffed, “You can’t keep me hidden away, I won’t live my life like that. I’m going with you to find my friends, smack them both  _very_  hard and hopefully take the opportunity to kill that demon bitch.”

“You aren’t getting near Dagon,” Sam said quickly.

“Because it was such a terrible idea at the warehouse when you shot Ramiel,” Morgan offered bitterly.

“How about the gas station?” Sam raised his voice a little.

“How the hell was I supposed to know-” she tried.

“You don’t,” Dean nodded, “Because you’re not trained to watch out for that kind of-”

“Bullshit!” Morgan spat, “Both’a you have been blindsided and kidnapped  _way_  more than I have, so don’t give me that,  _I’m not trained to watch out for that kind of thing_  crap. You cannot always be on the ready, but I’m certainly more alert than I was-”

“And aggressive,” Dean mumbled.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Princess,” she scoffed, surprised when her brothers smiled at each other, she hadn’t expected the sarcasm to go over well.

Dean sighed after a few moments of silent conversation with Sam and looked back at her, “You listen and obey orders, you got a problem, we work it out  _before_  you just go changing shit. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Morgan nodded, her mouth curling upward into a satisfied grin.

“We’re gonna head out when Garth and Kate get back,” he jerked his head at her room, “Make sure y’got everything you need.”

“Wait,” Cas suddenly threw a hand up to silence them, his attention down the hall towards the open room.

“What’s up, Cas?” Dean asked in a low voice after a few moments.

He didn’t answer immediately, it was a few seconds before his head snapped at them, concern in his eyes as he said, “They’re here, the wolves.”

Morgan’s stomach sank, the angel wasn’t worried about Garth and Kate, his heightened nerves could only mean one wolf pack had entered the bunker.

“Inside?” Sam asked in a hushed, shocked tone and Cas nodded.

“Morgan,” Dean’s eyes were focused at the open room as he jerked his head behind himself and pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans, “Go stay with Channing.”

“Give me a gun I can-” she began, but strong fingers gripped her upper arm and her brother dragged her to his side easily.

“Not the time to argue with me,” his whispered growl was more threatening than usual, but he clearly restrained himself as he pushed her towards Garth’s room, “Channing, now. And stay there.”

Morgan looked back, though her brothers and the angel had already turned their attention to the other end of the hall, her gut was churning with fear and every step away from them made it worse. With a sad sigh, she returned her attention to the direction she was walking, but her feet cemented to the floor at the sight of Phelan appearing around the corner ahead.

_**It has been a while since I've given you a cliffhanger so you had to know it was coming (love you, please don't hate me, you know I update ;*)** _


	30. Chapter 30

**_I hope most of you trust that I will update this as often as I can, and I am sorry I'm not sorry for the cliffhanger on the last one, y'all know me, it was coming- BUT it shall be resolved! =) However…I obviously have to torture you by returning to Chicago first… wow, I'm an asshole. But I love you all and am so glad you've stuck around for my twists and turns, I really do hope you enjoy the anxiety- it's pretty exhilarating to write lol Get ready for another cliffhanger, though I think this one is hardly comparable to where I left you last (hugs and please enjoy!)_ **

**_PLEASE HELP! If you see grammar or spelling errors (outside of dialogue) please let me know, Word has official told me to F off, but at 380,895 words it's probably due for a spell check error code LOL Yep, if you've read the whole thing, that's essentially the Order of the Phoenix and Goblet of Fire, if anyone was curious =)_ **

Matty and Pauley carefully climbed over almost every inch of the Grand National. Bryan was concerned a simple brush off of the trunk lock being finicky might make them suspicious, but was relieved when neither of them asked him to open it. They admired the craftsmanship without any interest in the personal effects and left only minutes later in Pauley's old, Ford pick-up truck.

"I kinda liked them," Bryan scoffed, finally releasing the pressure he'd had on the Colt, pressing it to his side with his hand inconspicuously in his pocket.

"Yeah, me too," Claire agreed with equal surprise, jerking her head as he walked to the motel room door, "C'mon."

Bryan didn't sigh, at least not outwardly, but his nerves were starting to get the better of him now that they had a direction. Claire was uncomfortably close to the entire plan, but Bryan would have to ditch her before he made his move.

"Alright," Claire tossed her backpack on her bed and began checking through the contents, "EMF reader, holy water, angel blade-"

"Angel blade?" Bryan interrupted, "Where'd you get that?"

"Stole it," she shrugged, "I got you one too, they've got like a storage bin of 'em."

"Thanks," Bryan smirked, taking the heavy, cool dagger from Claire and balanced it in his hand a moment before slipping it into the unoccupied inside pocket of his jacket, gently reminding her, "We're just scouting right now though, remember."

"Yeah, I know," she scoffed, "but we should always be prepared for the worst."

He smiled and nodded agreeably, but his gut still twisted, "I'm sorta tired though, and those couple beers didn't help. Think we could check it out first thing?"

Claire stared blankly at him, but sighed finally and dropped her backpack to the floor, "Yeah, fine."

"Sorry," he grimaced, "I'm just exhausted."

"Yeah, well, if you'd let me drive some'a the way maybe you could've slept a little," Claire said irritably.

"That's true," he smirked, sliding his jacket off and laying it gently on his bed.

"You're a jerk," she sneered.

"Yeah, well, you're kind of a bitch sometimes," Bryan chuckled, unsurprised at the hard, yet playful, punch that landed on his shoulder.

Sharing a room with Claire wasn't anywhere near as awkward as Bryan assumed it would be. She changed in the bathroom while he did in the main room and they easily agreed on  _Bad Boys 2_  after the motel's limited channel list offered very few other options. Bryan hardly made it passed the first fifteen minutes, however, before his heavy eyes fell into sleep.

Claire was still sound asleep when he woke the next morning, stretching his arms overhead while he yawned before Bryan quietly snuck into the bathroom. But she was still sleeping when he walked out in clean undershorts, toweling his damp hair.

After enduring half of a morning news program, Bryan clicked the television off and sighed as he turned to Claire, still snoring softly in the other bed.

"Hey," he called, but she didn't stir, "Hey!"

An incoherent mumble barely reached his ears and, pushing off the bed, Bryan nudged her gently, "Claire, c'mon, get up."

"Mwhy," she grumbled, rolling away from him, but pushed herself to a kneeling position.

Bryan's eyes dipped to the floor seeing her twisted tank top dangerously close to releasing one of her perky breasts.

"I wanna get goin' over to Gold Coast," he said, pretending to tighten his shoelaces.

"Yeah okay," she yawned, rolling off the bed towards the bathroom and shut herself inside.

Never in his life had Bryan encountered traffic like driving through the narrow, winding streets of Chicago. He made more wrong turns than he would ever admit to, trying to play a few off as alternate routes. Claire thankfully said nothing, simply telling him the next street to turn on and scowled at the people passing them in the breaks of parked cars along the curb. Compared to the barren roads of Lebanon and wide highways, the crowded city streets were definitely not something Bryan was used to, a level of road rage he'd never experienced was growing with every Illinois plate that cut him off with hardly a foot between bumpers.

Finally, Lake Michigan shimmered in front of them and Bryan turned onto Lake Shore Drive, which surprised him by being a rather beautiful drive with enough room for the impatient people to zigzag through those already exceeding the speed limit.

"Holy shit," Claire said in awe, gazing out the passenger window and windshield, obviously trying not to miss a thing.

Bryan too found his attention being torn from the road to the huge, historic skyscrapers peppered between even taller, modern buildings. It was a beautiful sight, but finding a parking spot proved absolutely impossible. Eventually, they settled on the nearest public parking garage, paying fifteen dollars for a few hours, to both of their resentment.

The power was on at the apartment building Pauley had indicated, though a rather cheap looking electrician's van sat in the emergency maintenance spot reserved near the delivery door at the back of the building. At Bryan's insistence, they took a lazy stroll around the block, glancing at the security guard behind the desk inside the front lobby.

"Okay, pro," he smirked, "How d'we get in?"

"I'm workin' on it," she muttered.

"How 'bout we check around back," he suggested quietly, "Looks like there's an electrician here, maybe we can sneak in when he runs out to his van."

Claire nodded absently, a silent understanding clear between them that the idea was simply the only one they had.

The alley was empty and smelled stronger of warm garbage and urine the further they walked between the back of the apartment and the other behind it, hastening their steps a tiny bit as they passed a few homeless people handing a bottle in a brown paper bag between themselves, nestled on a flat cardboard box next to a dumpster.

The electrician's van was still parked and empty, sitting in the reserved space immediately outside the end of the alley, the heavy steel door and rolling delivery door on the dock above them were both securely closed. Crouching near the steps, out of view from anyone on the dock who didn't stand near the edge above them and peer directly down, they checked their surroundings, but the young hunters ensured no one was within their line of view.

Bryan and Claire decided the best course of action was to wedge something under the metal door when the electrician walked out to his van, hoping it wouldn't latch and they could sneak inside. It felt like a long time they stood silently huddled in the corner next to the dock stairs.

Finally, the door swung open with a loud clang and Bryan and Claire's eyes met for a moment in mutual panic, but she jerked her head and he locked his fingers together, bending his knees and easily lifting her upward in one swift motion, hurrying the descent when her toes gave a downward push. He heard the door hit the frame, but Claire's smirk, and raised eyebrows when she settled quietly next to him, led Bryan to hope their mission was accomplished. Heavy steps disappeared, far slower than he appreciated, and they stayed hidden until the sound of the sliding, van door slamming echoed down the alley.

Bryan peered over one of the higher steps, but no one was there, and he jerked his head for Claire to follow, sliding under the railing and hastily crawling up the stairs to the landing, his back flat to the wall and, the moment Claire's foot hit the step below him, he pulled the heavy door open, stopping dead when the hinges screeched. He was glad, especially in that moment, to have a partner, because Claire pushed him through the narrow opening, following close behind, but managed to snatch the piece of silver glittering under the dirty rubber seal at the bottom of the door. Bryan hoped, if he had a chance to, he could ask Claire what she'd used as she shoved the shiny object in her pocket, leading him into the delivery bay of the Gold Coast apartment building.

Just moments later, the metal door screeched again and they sprinted on tiptoes around the nearest corner, finding a dark alcove with another door.

Claire's expression showed the growl she contained realizing it was locked. Bryan's stomach churned and he wiped his palms down his jeans, but they remained sweaty as he listened to the heavy steps echoing in the barren space. Claire pressed hard against him to share the corner of shadow the small alcove provided and they simultaneously stilled their breathing when the footsteps got closer.

His heart beat harder when Claire sighed silently, pushing further into his torso as the steps faded. Bryan wasn't thrilled at the idea of waiting out the electrician in the tight, shadowy corner of the entrance to a locked room, but it seemed their only choice. He found it impossible not to smell Claire's hair in his forced, shallow breaths, wishing she didn't smell so good.

"The hell you two doin' down here?!" they jumped at the barked question from an angry man who'd no less than appeared in the dim lights of the empty maintenance floor.

Bryan tried to step in front of Claire, settling with an arm across her chest when she wouldn't let him tug her behind, his heart racing while the dark-skinned man in an electrician's uniform strode towards them with narrow eyes. He was shorter than Bryan, though, possibly more muscular, but considering the circumstance, he still found himself highly intimidated.

"We're, uh, inspectors," Claire said, the shake in her tone disappearing as she continued, "We just wanted to get a look-"

"Bullshit you're inspectors," the man scoffed, "You what? Twenty-four combined?"

"We're in the training program," Claire's lie was so rational and well delivered, Bryan briefly believed it himself, listening intently as Claire continued, "We're not supposed to be here, I, we know, but, well, we heard it was a pretty unique blackout and just wanted to get a closer look. You can't blame us for trying to further our education. Can you?"

The electrician stared at them for several moments, finally offering an almost amused scoff and shaking his head.

"Still can't have ya down here," he said with finality, jerking his head towards the dock door, "C'mon, let's go."

Bryan nudged Claire forward, nodding at the man, but nonchalantly slowing his steps.

As he hoped, the electrician turned as Claire passed him and Bryan took his chance, pulling his pistol from the back of his jeans and gripping it carefully to avoid firing as he jerked his arm downward quickly. But not quickly enough. The electrician dipped, swerved and had Bryan's arm twisted painfully above his head in a moment.

"The fuck you doin' boy!?" he barked, twisting the gun from Bryan's hand, stomping a foot on it before Claire could so much as bend over to snatch it, and whipped out his own gun, pointing it at Bryan, "You better back up 'n start talkin' before you can't!"

Bryan did back up, but he was too stunned to speak, tugging Claire behind himself as he gaped at the man and asked stupidly, "Who  _are_  you?"

"Uh-uh," the electrician shook his head and shifted the gun between Bryan and Claire, "You're turn."

Bryan heard Claire sigh while she squeezed his arm and stepped forward, "Look, mister-"

"My name ain't you're concern right now," the stranger said firmly, "Tell me what the hell you're doin' here." 

Claire nodded nervously, but swallowed hard and said, "This, wasn't a normal power outage, what happened yesterday, that was, it was, something else."

"Yeah?" his smirk was hardly visible in the dimly lit bay, "What's that?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Claire scoffed.

"Try me," the electrician said with finality.

Claire turned to Bryan, but he saw no way out, maybe if the man thought they were crazy he at least wouldn't shoot them. Escaping a mental institution seemed more doable than returning from the grave. He shrugged and offered Claire a ' _what do we have to lose_ ' expression.

"Werewolves live in this building," she said as quickly, turning back to the man as if she'd lose her courage if she didn't spit it out.

The electrician's eyebrows rose, but a funny grin crept over his face and he matter-of-factly stated, "Yeah, the Duvals, I know. There's a demon here too."

Bryan was shocked, but Claire recovered quickly and expelled a bitter laugh when she said, "Prince of Hell, actually."

It was the stranger's turn to look surprised finally, narrowing his eyes from one to the other and asked, "You hunters?"

"Claire Novak," she nodded, and jerked her head saying, "Bryan Elkins."

The man assessed them both another moment before he returned her nod of respect, stowed his gun and gently kicked Bryan's in the direction of its owner, offering a smile finally as he introduced himself, "Ennis Ross."

* * *

Shock cemented Morgan's feet to the ground, the hair on the back of her neck rising at the sickening grin on Phelan's face as he approached. The scuffling and shouts behind her didn't distract from the nearly black eyes narrowed at her, nearing from down the hall. Her brothers were screaming her name, but Morgan knew better than to turn her attention from the enemy, and rapidly threw a fire attack in Phelan's direction.

The purple stream of burning light soared directly at the Alpha werewolf, exploding on his chest in a fiery burst. Morgan turned towards her brothers, but a feigned cough stole her attention before she could take a step. Phelan waved the smoke away with an indifferent hand, chuckling as he shook his head.

"Your magic is useless against me," he sneered.

"How?" Morgan whispered fearfully, much more to herself than the amused werewolf.

"You've made a lot of enemies," Phelan smiled nastily, "Jean Petit for one, he thought your treatment of his dear, Great Aunt was, atrociously egotistical, and was more than keen to assist my cause," he let out a barking laugh, "Do you think I'd be so imprudent as to walk into this battle unarmed?"

"Okay, seriously, dude, no one talks like that," Morgan scoffed, pretending she wasn't quaking internally.

Phelan's expression contorted angrily, but, before he could speak again, a small cry from behind Garth's closed door stole the Alpha's attention and made Morgan's gut churn.

"Dayee!" Channing yelled and Morgan sprinted to the door, slamming directly into the werewolf's rock-hard side, unsuccessfully budging him so much as an inch.

Phelan, however, wrapped an inhumanely strong arm around Morgan's waist as he lurched the bedroom door open with his free hand and grinned sadistically at the puffy eyed toddler gnawing on the already chewed sides of his pack'n'play crib.

"Well, now," Phelan crooned sickenly at Channing, securing his grip on the wriggling witch in his grasp, "Won't you be a good soldier for the Maw? A force that will help bring balance to this Earth," and continued in his sonnet-like tone as she created a plan, at least for the immediate threat. 

Morgan couldn't attack Phelan, he was protected from her magic and physically she had no chance of overpowering him. But Channing, the whimpering little boy backing into the corner of his blankets and hugging Claire's old Grumpy Cat to his chest,  _he_  had no such protection.

"ŬTAN!" Morgan screeched, throwing her free hand in Channing's direction and he was gone.

For a moment, there was silence. Morgan lurched herself from Phelan's hold once again, but he vicsiously tossed her at the same moment, slamming the young woman against the wall and she crumpled to the floor.

"Where  _is_  he?!" Phelan raged, his sharp nails digging into Morgan's scalp while he grabbed a fistful of her hair, lifting her partially to her knees.

She gave him a snarling smile, "Screw you," and forced the cry she wanted to release as he smacked her hard across the face into a laugh.

"Perhaps you won't be so tough if it's your own family," Phelan growled, dragging Morgan by the hair to her feet and out of Garth's room.

In the hall he snatched her arm and Morgan was helpless to pull herself from his grasp. A blinding light flashed at the end of the corridor and she caught sight of bodies lying on the floor in the open room, whether dead or unconscious she didn't know. Seeing Garth and Kate slumped against each other under the map table and bound with rope, Morgan had reason to believe they, at least, were alive. The same could not be said for the unfamiliar werewolf face down on the table with his arms out to his sides, blood dripping onto to the tile under his slumped frame.

She gasped, turning to see Sam, crumpled on the floor with an angel blade inches from his hand, Dean in matched combat with Kane, but losing stamina, and Marco hardly holding himself up as his bloody hand fell away from a glowing symbol on the stone, library wall. Castiel was no where to be seen.

"Boys!" Phelan called, he sounded almost bored, but Kane and Dean did not relent.

Phelan sighed and pulled out a gun, Morgan's entire body went cold as her insides shriveled, trying again to pull away from him, to no avail. The Alpha lifted the pistol over his head and the shot that rang out was enough to cease Kane and Dean, though they remained interlocked while their eyes found Phelan.

"Please, Mister Winchester," Phelan said smugly, jerking his head at one of the chairs still standing around the map table, "have a seat."

Dean clearly had many things to say to the werewolf, but none of them would have been beneficial for Morgan who was still prisoner in his grip.

Only taking his eyes from Phelan to glare briefly at Kane, Dean's jaw twitching when the Beta werewolf removed his gun, angel blade, second gun and the knives in his jeans pocket, boot and jacket, before thrusting him into the designated chair. Dean sat forward quick enough to keep himself from falling backward, but he scowled a promise of death at Kane.

"Breaking into this attempted fortress of yours was much easier than I anticipated," Phelan grinned at Dean allowing his gaze to flutter over the bound and unconscious Garth and Kate near his feet, "Perhaps you should keep a better eye on your house guests, maybe allow them a  _key_  when they plan to return, or they may end up in an ambush, dragged through your very own garage doors. Sit," Phelan shoved Morgan into the chair on the side exactly opposite from Dean at the map table and laughed, "Without magic against us you are nothing more than a weak child, destined to watch the ones you love die, before I rip out your still beating heart."

"Hey! Fido!" Dean yelled, "Screw you!"

Before Morgan could scream at Dean, terror pulsing harder every time she glanced at Sam in a heap on the floor, praying he wasn't dead, another strike forced her head the opposite way. She couldn't pretend it was a laugh this time, gasping at the pain and covering her cheek with her hand, glaring at Phelan as he smiled.

"Try me again,  _Dean_ ," the Alpha sneered, "I doubt my hand will tire as quickly as your sister's delicate cheeks."

Dean's nostrils flared, but he said nothing.

"Good, boy," Phelan nodded condescendingly, taking a step back from Morgan as he swiped his gaze between them both, "This, yes, this is what the world should be. Humans in the control of the wolf, the children of Fenris ruling the Earth as we should have long ago, finally taking the chance to own every land, across all the seas-"

"Who the hell talks like that?" Dean scoffed angrily.

"I asked the same thing," Morgan commented with a shrug.

"Silence!" Phelan barked and the Winchesters snickered.

Their eyes met and together Morgan and Dean mockingly mouthed, ' _Silence_!' and burst into laughter.

Phelan, obviously at the end of his patience, cocked his pistol and aimed it at Morgan.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean raised his hands defensively, "Point that thing at somebody your own size, huh?"

Morgan's heart sank as the gun swayed with Phelan's attention to the oldest Winchester and she twisted her hands in her lap, her knuckle brushing something cold and uneven under the table.

Kane paced behind Dean, offering a few glares in an attempt to seem intimidating and important, and Phelan's attention was fixed on her brother, so Morgan took the opportunity to inconspicuously explore what her hand had just found. The pistol holstered under the table felt like an answered prayer.

She kept her expression neutral, watching the altercation between the werewolves and Dean, while working her fingers around the gun grip. Even with a gun pointed at his face, her brother talked a good trash game, and Morgan couldn't help but smirk when Dean asked Phelan if he smacked Kane on the nose with a newspaper when he didn't listen. Kane's pacing paused, situated unfortunately between her conscious brother and her unconscious one.

Morgan considered, if she could rip the pistol from its place and shoot Phelan quickly enough to allow Dean a distraction, he could snag Sam's gun, poking out from under his shirt, and they might be able to fight. But Kane needed to get out of the way and he hadn't resumed his pacing.

"You got a big mouth for somebody who's in serious danger of saying their last words you-" Kane got louder with every syllable, but his Alpha's strong voice over powered him with little effort.

"Your opinion is not required, Kane," Phelan's interjection silenced his Beta immediately with an apologetic head droop and several step retreat.

That was all Morgan needed.

Her hand wrapped the pistol's grip, tearing it from under the table and squeezing the trigger in the same moment she leveled the barrel at Phelan's chest. The bullet struck him directly in the heart as the Alpha turned in her direction, his own gun pointed arbitrarily at the wall as the unexpected strike hit. But his weapon fell to the floor, clutching his heart while fiery light flashed under his skin, as if his soul was burning from his body. And Phelan collapsed at Dean's feet.

For a moment, the room was silent. A pistol cocking turned Morgan's attention to Kane holding a gun to Dean's head and her heart somehow managing to quake as it plummeted to her toes, but she readied her own pistol again and aimed it at him.

"I- I won't hurt you," Kane promised, fear obvious on his face, "Any of- of you, plea-ease, just let me go."

"Why would I do that?" Morgan heard the question, hardly registering the thought before it burst bitterly from her lips, "You're holding a gun to my brother's head, and don't think I forgot about the barn."

Kane's head drooped, as did the pistol in his hand, but he attempted a charming smile towards Morgan, "For a witch, you're pretty irresistib-"

A shot rang out.

Kane burned beneath his skin as he crashed on his side like a sawed oak tree, the gun in his hand blasting one shot towards the garage hallway before clattering several feet across the tile.

Morgan checked the still cocked pistol in her hands, but her gaze continued in the direction of the attack, sighing with happy relief at Sam, pushing himself from the floor, his gun smoking in his grip. Her brother's expression, however, was stone as he planted his right foot on the first step, hardly shifting his attention to Marco's lifeless form, bleeding down the stairs, and ensured the werewolf's demise with a single bullet to his exposed back. His nostrils flaring, Sam took an ominous step towards the obviously dead Kane and shot him in the head, twice.

"Sam?" Morgan tried tentatively to get her brother's attention, but he didn't move.

"Sam," Dean didn't yell, but his tone was stern enough and Sam turned towards his brother, "You good?"

"Yeah," Sam smirked at his brother, smiled at his sister and stared again at the werewolf dead at his feet, "I'm good."

The Winchesters' brief moment of peace was interrupted by a waking grunt.

Garth's head barely lifted off the floor as he asked, "What'd I miss?" before slumping back into unconsciousness.

Morgan let out a horrified gasp, "Channing!"

She hardly heard the rapid footsteps following her sprint to the garage. Leaping down the stairs and skidding across the garage floor, Morgan used an unlocking spell before her hand even reached the rear driver's door of the heavily warded Impala, lurching it open and pulling the hysterical little boy into her arms.

"I'm sorry, Chan," her voice broke, "I'm so, so sorry."

His sobs continued, one of his tiny fists grabbing Morgan's shirt collar while the other snaked his fingers into her hair. She let him tear distaughtly at her hair, deserving the pain from the fear she'd forced on him, whimpering apologies Channing couldn't possibly hear over his cries.

_**Your reviews keep me going =)** _


	31. Chapter 31

_**My only note is Dean hasn't been helping with the stress I've had lately. I won't get into it, but friends and family can both really beat you up sometimes. I'm sorry this has taken a little longer than usual, honestly, I don't like it, I didn't want to write it and I wish I could have any control over some of the actions of these characters, but, I have to write their story.** _

“You’re okay,” Morgan stroked Channing’s hair and leaned into Dean’s chest as he wrapped his arms around both of them behind her.

Channing’s crying slowed, just a bit, but enough that Morgan pulled her head away to stare at his tear streaked face, twisting one hand free and wiping the moisture from his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” she whispered again when his lips broke with another sob.

“He’ll be okay,” Dean moved his calloused hand vigorously on Morgan’s shoulder while the other made a similar motion on Channing’s back, “All in one piece at least.”

Instantly, she wretched away, pivoting on him with a bitter scowl, “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“What? Nothin’,” Dean insisted quickly.

“Bullshit nothin’,” Morgan spat, enraged at her assumption of Dean’s internally kept disdain for her audacity to teleport the toddler, “You should’ve heard what that monster was sayin’ he wanted to turn Channing into! The safest place here, besides that terrifying dungeon of yours, is Baby. I did the best I could!”

Dean sighed, shifting from Morgan to Channing and back, “I didn’t mean, look, was it ballsy and dangerous? Yeah, but it worked, you got him outta harm’s way.”

“You believe that?” she asked as neutrally as she could manage.

“If what you’re tellin’ me’s true,” Dean shrugged and Morgan’s temper flared, but she bit her tongue.

“Dayee,” Channing squeaked pitifully at the end of a weakening cry.

“C’mon,” Morgan offered the most genuine, feigned smile she could while carrying the toddler out of the garage.

Sam was bringing water to Kate and Garth, both propped up by their elbows on the map table as they shook unsteadily in their chairs, when Morgan brought Channing into the open room. She set him down when he wriggled wildly at the sight of his father. Although, the pained grunt Garth expelled when the toddler flung his entire weight into his lap, made Morgan cringe, and consider she should’ve held onto him.

“I’m sorry,” she said earnestly, “Garth, are you alright? I mean, I know you’re not, just, Kate, you’re both-”

“We’re both still here,” Garth grinned, interrupting Morgan’s rambling, “That’s what’s important. If they’d’ve gotten their hands on this little guy,” he finished the terrible thought by holding his son tighter to his chest.

“I wasn’t gonna let that happen,” Morgan assured him quietly, allowing Garth to take her hand and fighting back tears at the earnest squeeze.

“I owe you more than I could ever repay,” he said, squeezing her fingers again when Morgan opened her mouth to refute, “I do. Thank you, I am forever grateful.”

They hardly shared a smile before Dean’s overpowering voice stole the room’s attention, “Sam, we’re gonna need sheets.”

Sam scowled from where he was dragging Phelan towards the wall, behind the table from Channing.

“Fuck them,” Morgan scoffed, silencing the room, “They don’t deserve a funeral.”

Dean stared at her a moment before asking, rather sarcastically, “Well, we gotta bury ‘em. Or what do you propose?”

“His followers need to know he’s gone,” she reasoned, “Let me look for them, and I’ll send the bodies to their kitchen table.”

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise, shifting his gaze to Sam, but the younger brother smirked with satisfaction at their sister’s idea.

“Kate,” Garth jerked his head, wincing as he did, “Go lay down, I know I need to.”

“Yeah,” Kate agreed in a quiet and awkward tone, limping a bit towards the hallway, “Good call.”

The moment the trio of werewolves disappeared towards the bedrooms, Morgan took the opportunity to survey the damage, thankful Garth had the sense to take his son away from the bloodshed and dispised her inconsideration of it when bringing Channing from the garage.

“Morgan, I gotta ask,” Sam began, picking the pistol she’d shot Phelan with off the map table, “How’d you remember which one had silver bullets in it?”

“I didn’t,” she shrugged, “But it might not be a bad idea for all of them to.”

  
“You gonna call Cas?” Sam turned his attention to their brother.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, digging his phone from his front pocket in the same moment, “Hopefully he found his way outta angel hell.”

“Alright well,” Morgan said, “I’m gonna look for Phelan’s followers.”

Dean dropped the phone to his side just before beginning the call and leveled her with a scowl, “You are not doing that. Don’t ask. It’s not happening.”

“Funny, ‘cause I wasn’t asking,” Morgan retorted.

“Excuse me?” Dean raised a characteristic eyebrow.

“I. Wasn’t. Asking,” Morgan said slow and deliberately.

“Morgan-” Sam’s sigh had a growling undertone that was far more common in their older brother.

“No!” she turned and barked at him before setting her eyes back on Dean, “I’m gonna look for Julian, figure out where Dagon took him, get a location to send,  _them_ , and we’re leaving.”

“And give away our entrance,” Dean said bitterly, expelling a hard laugh when Morgan scrunched her forehead, “You don’t think the second Phelan’s bleeding corpse pops up in front of Dagon she’s not gonna realize we’re coming?”

Morgan grimaced, “I didn’t think about-”

“That’s why  _we_  do the thinking!” Dean growled, pointing to himself and Sam, “You wanna help? Move these assholes outside and bury ‘em under twenty feet of dirt!”

Morgan scowled at his back while Dean stalked towards the lifeless form of Phelan, the Alphas’s eyes still blankly staring at the ceiling until he swipped a rough hand down his face. Sam caught her attention and tried to offer silent encouragement in a tiny, and very forced, grin, but Morgan turned away and stepped to the heaped body of Kane.

“I’ll grab some sheets,” Sam’s comment sounded distant.

“No,” Dean’s demand was expected and she snapped her fingers as he said, “Morgan, there’s extras in-”

His order ceased when a white sheet fluttered over the three deceased werewolves scattered in the open room and Marco on the library steps, the angel banishing sigil dripped blood down the wall above him. Before the white sheet could fall over the body of Kane, Morgan’s foot pulled back and kicked the toe of her boot hard on the side of his head, forcing his neck to turn sickeningly.

She felt her brothers’ eyes on her, but refused to look at either of them while roughly spinning the werewolf’s body in linen, performing the task on the rest with equal malice and managed to whack Phelan’s lolling head against the table several times before dropping him carelessly to the floor. Morgan slowly turned her scowl on Sam and then Dean.

“Any specific place you’d like them buried? Seeing as you need full control over everything,” she sneered.

Dean crossed his arms, squaring his shoulders on her as a low growl emitted from his throat, “Cool it with the attitude,” his tone began low and nearly steady, but grew with his anger, “I am,  _fucking_  done!”

“You’re fucking done?!” Morgan screamed, “I can do one thing!  _ONE!_  And  _every, goddamn_   _time_  I do  _anything_  more than pop the cap off your beer you look at me like I’m gonna go dark side!”

“I just watched you stomp on a dead werewolf’s face!” he barked.

“Guys-” Sam tried to interrupt.

“Shut up, Sam!” Morgan and Dean barked in unison, never taking their eyes from each other.

“I’m sorry I’m still a little  _pissed off_  that asshole felt me up!” Morgan’s voice broke as she yelled.

“Stop it!” Sam’s voice filled the room, silencing his siblings and finally gaining their attention, “Both of you, shut the  _Hell_  up! We got a win here!  _A fucking win_! And you two are  _still_  at each other’s throats-”

“If he didn’t-” Morgan interjected.

“No!” Sam snapped, “Morgan, Dean, stop! Phelan is on the goddamn floor, guys! Give it a break! Seriously!”

Morgan stared at Sam, her anger still festering, but feigned a conceding sigh and turned to Dean at the same time he did to her. Silently, they agreed the argument was not over, but it was better to deescalate for Sam’s benefit.

“You’re right,” Dean nodded at Sam, returning his focus to Morgan and she didn’t miss the hardened expression as their matching eyes met again, “I’m good if you are.”

“Fine,” Morgan nodded curtly.

Sam shifted his narrow eyes between them before expelling a hard breath and shaking his head, “Whatever. Let’s get these assholes outside.”

 

* * *

 

“Winchester?” Ennis’s eyebrows nearly reached his hairline, leaning back on his side of the secluded booth they shared, “Tall guy with long hair and a jackass who doesn’t let anybody finish a sentence?”

“You know ‘em?” Bryan scoffed lightly, not surprised that the hunter knew Sam and Dean, but was of the irritated twinge he felt hearing Dean called a ‘jackass’.

Ennis was nearly six feet, close enough to lie about it with shoes on, and bulky with muscle, though he told them his strength had been a development over the last couple of years he’d been hunting. The Winchesters had, of course, been present when Ennis was first introduced to the world of monsters, under circumstances he’d rather not talk about.

But, after finding silver bullets in an old gun case of his father’s, Ennis had dug further into his father’s “home” cases, and had found many of them had never been judicially recorded, despite the extensive records in the attic and crawl space of his childhood home. Murders, without police attention, sitting abandoned, nearly every folder marked with a large X in red marker. It was when Ennis found his father’s journal, hidden in the false bottom of a crate filled mostly with thinner folders devoid of red X’s, that he understood all of the undocumented murder files were written in code. It was genius really, if anyone ever saw the files they’d seem almost normal at first glance, the senior Mr. Ross had hunted monsters for decades, quietly and in a police uniform.

“Guess it’s in my blood,” Ennis shrugged and sipped his beer, though he didn’t seem nearly as proud of the statement as Sam or Dean, even Bryan knew he’d said the same thing while tugging his shoulders back a bit.

“I hear that,” Bryan raised his own and took a swig of beer.

“Your old man too?” Ennis smirked.

“And his,” Bryan nodded and chuckled, “And a few generations before that.”

“Shit,” Ennis expelled a quick laugh, “You like a dynasty, huh?”

“Not really,” Bryan glanced at Claire, but she grinned and raised an eyebrow, “I just started hunting recently to be honest.”

“Could’a fooled me,” Ennis scoffed before shifting his gaze between them, offering the question to either that would answer, “So Sam and Dean taught y’all some stuff?”

“Little bit,” Claire shrugged.

“They still as big’a assholes as they were a couple years ago?” his question came with a wide smile that Bryan and Claire mimicked.

“Maybe bigger,” Claire mumbled as she pressed the bottle to her lips, hiding her smile with a sip.

“That’d be impressive,” Ennis grumbled more to himself than them and Bryan felt his insides twist.

“They’re not that bad,” Bryan said, unsure why the moment Ennis’s eyebrows raised and he sat forward with his elbows on the table.

“No?” the older hunter asked with what seemed to be genuine interest, despite his clear disdain.

Bryan smirked, “Dean reminds me of my old man. He’s a hardass, a jackass actually. But the people he cares about,” he sighed, swallowing hard on the emotions trying to bubble up from under layers of repression, “Well, they’ve got more protection than, Hell, anybody.”

“Yeah?” Ennis asked bitterly, “Ya sure? ‘Cause they didn’t seem too concerned about my girlfriend’s death.”

Bryan took an inconspicuous, deep breath, and, after a few moments, managed, “I, I’m sorry to hear that. Really, Ennis, I was just talkin’ about my experience. I mean, Sam ‘n Dean saved my life, but I can understand where someone, who met them under, y’know, different circumstances, they’d feel, different.”

Ennis stared at him for several seconds, glancing briefly at Claire, who was sipping her drink with an impressively blank expression, before he spoke, “I always told the truth, I never doubted what I saw, after the cops, and even after  _your boys_  told me I was crazy. I knew what I saw,” Ennis’s eyes glossed with the pain of a seasoned hunter, “And I was right. And I killed that sonuvabitch. But that don’t bring my girl back, or stop the djinn, shapeshifters and werewolves from runnin’ the city. All I can do is stop the little battles. The rogue monsters attacking humans,” Ennis scoffed, “Surprisingly, there’s not a lot’a that in Chicago.”

“So, what’d you do then?” Claire asked with an indifference Bryan wished he could even fake.

“Hunt,” Ennis shrugged, “I ain’t been back to the city in months. The suburbs, and fuckin’ Wisconsin, that’s where I spend most’a my time. When David Lassiter called me about this werewolf uprising, though, I knew I had to come home.”

“Who’s David Lassiter?” Claire sat forward.

“Shapeshifter, runs the family with his sister Margo,” Ennis said nonchalantly, “She can be kinda a loose cannon, but, well, Dave’s kinda a buddy of mine,” he expelled a short laugh at the surprised looks Clarie and Bryan gave him, “Hey, man, your boy Dean told me sometimes we gotta work in the gray area to get to the black.”

Bryan nodded, thinking of Crowley, “And they even work in the black to get to the darker black, I get it. What’d Lassiter have to say?”

“Some,” Ennis sipped his beer and smirked.

“Care to share?” Claire asked a bit sarcastically and Bryan was sure she expected the same answer he did before it came.

“I will if you do,” Ennis grinned, setting his empty bottle in the middle of the table, “So. Should we get another round?”

Claire and Bryan shared a long look, mutually understanding the need to filter certain information, before a short nod from the young man encouraged Claire to raise her own empty bottle and call their waitress to the table.

* * *

 

Garth, Kate and Channing were nowhere to be seen when Morgan, Sam and Dean returned to the open room after burying Phelan and his cronies at least a dozen feet underground a quarter of a mile away from the bunker. None of them had spoken aside from Dean’s few orders, which Morgan had refused to verbally respond to, but performed the tasks she was given. She continued passed the table, striding to her bedroom and shut the door, but it stopped just before hitting the frame as Dean gripped the edge and yanked it open.

“Alright,” he began, not bothering to wait for her to turn around, “Sam ‘n I are gettin’ outta here in a minute, pickin’ up Cas on th way. Keep an eye on Garth, Kate ‘n Channing, we’ll check-”

“I’m coming with you,” Morgan stated firmly, “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

“You’re not,” but instead of continuing his argument, Dean simply growled and turned into the hallway, “Sam!”

Morgan turned her focus on shoving clothes into her duffel bag, ignoring her door banging against the wall as Sam pushed his way around Dean’s exit from the doorway.

“Morgan-” he tried.

“I’m coming, Sam,” she repeated her stance, shoving the  _bok Gungnir_  and other a few other spell books into her backpack.

“Sweetie,” he sighed, grabbing her shoulder gently, forcing her to face him and tugged her chin up, Morgan begrudgingly met his eyes before he continued, “We need you to be safe. Please, in the less than a year we’ve had you, we’ve almost lost you, Hell, we  _have_  lost you, and I, Dean ‘n I can’t do it again. Please, Morgan, listen to me.”

“Sam,” she tried to pull away, but his grip on her shoulders refused to let go, “I get it, I do, and I’m sorry. But I’m going to Chicago with-”

“It’s not safe-” he insisted angrily.

“Obviously,” Morgan scoffed.

“Morgan,” Sam growled, “You’re not listening to-”

“Yes, I am!” she snapped on him and wretched away, snatching her purple sack of witch tools and tossed them on top of her books before zipping up her backpack, all while avoiding her brother’s gaze as she said, “And if you don’t want to take me with, then I guess I’ll see you there.”

Sam stared for several long moments, his shoulders heaving, but he said nothing and stalked out of her bedroom, leaving the door open.

Morgan listened while she finished packing a handful of underwear and remembered to grab her phone charger, but all she could hear was Sam yelling and Dean’s muffled rumblings.

She’d never attempted to teleport herself, and honestly hoped she wouldn’t have to follow through on the threat, but Morgan prepared her mind with the proper methods and knowledge she’d learned. Sam’s sudden scream stole her attention briefly, but no further altercation followed and she returned to the, albeit scary, exit strategy. It would have to be outside of the bunker, even down the road would be safer, the Men of Letters’ warding was too powerful to chance her unmastered skills.

Morgan shrugged her heavy backpack onto her shoulders and reached for the short straps of her duffel just as Dean strode through the open doorway.

“I’m not arguing with you,” she stated plainly, dropping the straps of her bag and crossing her arms, “Either take me with you or I will get there myself.”

Dean sighed and, with his head hung and his thumbs hooked in the back pockets of his jeans, he seemed almost amiable. In two strides, he was close enough to make Morgan incline her head, stubbornly narrowing her eyes at his, glistening with pain.

“I’m not arguing with you either,” he grinned a little and jerked his head, the same gesture he used to silently request a hug.

Morgan sighed with tiny relief and uncrossed her arms, closing the small gap between them to hug her brother. But Dean pulled his hands from behind himself and clamped a heavy cuff on each of her wrists, instantly Morgan felt her magic blocked to her fingers. Useless. Exactly as she’d felt in the barn.

“I’m sorry, Sweetie, please-” Dean tried to snatch her arm as she backed away from him as far as she could, overcome with shattered trust, “Morgan, you can’t come. I’m sorry, please, listen, I’m, really, I am sorry, and I took the chains off so you’re not-”

“ _That makes it better!_ ” she screeched, tearing at the secure, metal bonds with no luck, “ _Take them OFF!_ ”

“I can’t, Morgan-” Dean sniffled hard, trying to take another step towards her.

“ _I HATE YOU! Get away from me!_ ” Morgan’s voice broke and sticky saliva burst from her lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered while backing out of the room and closing the door.

Morgan fell to her knees, banging her wrists painfully against the tile floor until tiny splatters of blood tinged the breaking porcelain. She was oblivious to her brothers’ nearby yelling, unable to focus on anything but an old, familiar anxiety that Morgan had never felt inside what had always been a safe place, a home.

**_Thank you for reading. I could use good vibes right now, but also, please be honest =)_ **


	32. Chapter 32

**_Sorry for the delay guys, BUT ... BOOK IS 98% READY FOR PUBLISHING!! I'll have more updates for you soon, but I will be ordering some copies to sign so if anyone is interested, please let me know._ **

**_For anyone who found this story after the first (or second) part was written, I feel compelled to tell you that Morgan’s story was written well before Jack Kline was even a fetal storyline. The only reason is I’ve gotten quite a few readers telling me her first story (and now it seems part of the second) follow Jack’s story pretty closely. Magical teenager who’s practically adopted by the Winchesters and is being hunted by Lucifer only to eventually lose their powers to Lucifer before the asshat gets ganked. And now a spoiler article says Jack will be searching for any way to restore his powers and I’m kinda over here like, just so y’know, this story is original from my own crazy brain. I don’t think the show writers are reading my saga, but I would really appreciate it if no one would continue to mention the possibility, I realize it seems like a compliment, but the more I hear it the harder it is to ignore and makes me sad to think that I’m struggling to pay bills with a more than full time, commission based job and write this in my spare time for free and that someone could’ve taken and manipulated my ideas for actual pay. So, I’d like to stay in my world of “the writers don’t read this and everything is a coincidence” please, but I’m so grateful you guys like this story and actually think its good enough to be the show =) Love you all!_ ** ****

“So, David calls me,” Ennis swirled his beer bottle gently as spoke, “I hadn’t heard from him in ages, tryin’ to keep his sister Margo in check after their father died, she’s kinda a loose canon. Anyway, he called to warn me about an influx of werewolves in the city, his ex girlfriend, Violet Duval, she-”

“Duval?” Claire interjected, “That Julian’s wife or somethin’?”

“Sister,” Ennis corrected, “Guess her last name’s different now, her family married her off to the New York wolves. And, ‘bout a month or so ago, she, her husband ‘n his brothers came for a visit. Now, there ain’t been any weird murder spikes, I mean, most of the homicide ‘round here’s still on humans, but they’ve got their claws in the organ donor game, so that wasn’t what made me worried.”

“What then?” Bryan asked, filled with questions about the information.

“They held one’a those fancy fundraisers-” Ennis said.

“A gala?” Claire offered.

“Yeah, that,” he nodded and continued, “Well, all these wolves poured in from New York for this thing, but they didn’t go back home, a few of ‘em stayed, but the rest headed to Montana.”

Bryan and Claire shared glance, shifting their attention back to Ennis simultaneously and Bryan asked, “How’d you know that?”

“David,” Ennis shrugged.

“And you trust him?” Bryan’s question made Ennis’s eyebrow raise.

“Yeah,” he said simply, “I do, ‘cause he might be a shifter, but he ain’t a bad guy, saved my ass, twice.”

“But isn’t he gettin’ his info from Duvall’s sister?” Bryan insisted.

“Yeah, but princess wolverine isn’t exactly a fan of her family’s work,” Ennis assured them, “Look, I might not be the veteran your buddies Sam ‘n Dean are, but I know what the hell I’m doin’.”

“So,” Claire leaned forward, averting his bitter gaze from Bryan, “We know Phelan rallied his troops in Wolf Creek Montana, that means the New York wolves are onboard with him.”

“Who’s that?” Ennis asked, whipping a glare at Bryan when the young man scoffed.

“Thought you’d know,” Bryan offered sarcastically, ignoring Claire’s elbow jabbing in his side.

“Look, kid,” Ennis growled, “I protect Chicago, my focus is on this city, so if he ain’t munchin’ on my people he ain’t on my radar. So, how’s about you quit bein’ a little bitch, I’m sharin’ what I know, why don’t you do the same?”

Bryan’s eyebrows jumped, but, after a brief staring contest, he nodded slowly and muttered, “Sorry.”

“Phelan is a descendant of Fenris,” Claire explained quickly, “Are you familiar with Ragnarok?”

Ennis narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, “A little bit. Norse mythology?”

Claire nodded, “The wolf Fenris, to complete their version of the apocalypse, devours the heart of the god Odin.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “That’s some high school English class shit I haven’t thought about in a while. But what’s that got to do with all this? Odin and Fenris aren’t real.”

“They were,” Claire countered and Ennis blinked in surprise, “But Phelan is taking up his ancestor’s plan, he wants werewolves to rule the world.”

“Okay,” Ennis said slowly, clearly trying to wrap his mind around the information, “But, if Odin’s not around anymore, how’s he gonna accomplish that?”

“Odin has a descendant too,” Bryan grumbled.

“Who’s that?” Ennis asked.

Claire and Bryan shared another glance, shrugging at each other before the blonde answered, “Sam and Dean Winchester’s half-sister.”

Ennis laughed, “Figures. So, why haven’t they just killed her to take her off the board?”

Heat rushed through Bryan, barely noticing Claire’s hand on his arm to calm him as he barked, “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Ennis’s eyes widened, but an understanding smirk appeared as he said, “I take it she’s your girlfriend?”

Bryan growled.

“She’s not the bad guy,” Claire said bitterly, “I don’t know about you, but we don’t just kill people to  _take them off the board_ , we hunt monsters, and  _save_  people.”

Ennis nodded agreeably, “I didn’t mean to offend, I’m just not their biggest fan.”

“Yeah, well, wishing death on a sixteen-year-old girl isn’t a great look, regardless how you feel about her brothers,” Bryan added contemptuously.

“I said I was sorry,” Ennis leveled hard eyes on him, “Move on, kid.”

Bryan really didn’t appreciate the slightly older man repeatedly calling him ‘kid’ in such a condescending tone.

“So, Phelan and his army of wolves have been after Morgan-” Claire began.

“That’s the Odin Winchester?” Ennis confirmed.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “He teamed up with a Prince of Hell, Dagon, nasty bitch, but they had a falling out and now she-”

“She?” Ennis furrowed his brow.

“Dagon,” Claire repeated.

“Wouldn’t she be a  _princess_?” he joked.

“Sure,” Claire scoffed and continued with her point, “She kidnapped Julian Duvall and seems to have brought him back here. We’re just not sure why.”

Ennis nodded with immediate understanding, “Because the big guys are here,” he continued at their identical confusion, “Look, I don’t know about no Phelan, but the Duvalls and the Romanos, those New York wolves I was talkin’ about, those are the ruling wolf families. If they’re backing Phelan he might be the masthead, but they’re the oars pushin’ him ahead. My best guess is that prince, princess, whatever, brought Julian back as a negotiating tool to make his father force that Phelan character to fall in line with her.”

Claire and Bryan looked at each other again, silently agreeing that was very probable.

“So,” Ennis continued, “What’s your plan?”

“I’m gonna kill Dagon,” Bryan said simply.

Ennis laughed, “Yeah? How ya gonna do that?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bryan growled.

“Kid,” Ennis leaned forward, “I don’t join fights blind, so if you want my help, you better talk.”

“Well, old man,” Bryan leaned forward, “You’re gonna have to trust that you won’t be anywhere near that fight. Nobody’s takin’ killin’ that bitch from me.”

“Big boss fight,” Ennis chuckled darkly, “Sounds like somethin’ better suited for your buddies.”

Bryan scoffed, “Yeah, well, they’ve had their turn.”

Ennis smirked, “Who’d they sidestep you on?”

Bryan said nothing, pressing the colt to his side through his jacket, but couldn’t help his thoughts travelling to the night of the vampire raid. His anger had only grown since the night he was barred from the revenge that should have been his. Vampires had been the single greatest threat to the Elkinses and the demise of almost every member of the family. Bryan should have gotten to pull the trigger of his grandfather’s gun on the Alpha. But he would fire it at Dagon, to save the girl he loved while stealing the revenging glory from the man who’d stolen his.

* * *

 

“Go away!” Morgan screeched when her door opened, her tear-soaked face partially buried in her pillow.

“Sweetie,” Sam said gently as his weight sunk onto her mattress, “Please-”

“Please what?!” she whipped around, shoving her wrists at him, “What, Sam?!”

“I didn’t know!” Sam pleaded, “Morgan, please, listen to me-”

“Didn’t know what?!” she challenged, “That  _your_  brother is a goddamn psychopath?!”

“SAM!” Dean barked from the doorway.

“Dean, just-” Sam tried.

“No!” Dean raged, “She can fuckin’ hate me, I don’t care! But she’s stayin’ here! She’s stayin’ safe! So, don’t go tryin’ any bullshit, Morgan, Garth’s been told to-”

“Fuck off!” Morgan screamed.

“Right back at’cha, brat!” Dean yelled, pointing a firm finger at their brother, “Sam! Get’cher ass in the car! NOW!”

Sam’s ears burned red, but he silently got off Morgan’s bed, turning with one last earnest attempt at a hug, but she wrenched away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Sam, now!” Dean repeated.

“I’m comin’, Dean!” he whipped angrily at the oldest, “Sorry, I don’t wanna leave for one’a the most dangerous hunts we’ve ever gone on with our sister hating me!”

Morgan felt a pang of guilt stab through her fury, but didn’t move. Sam may not have put the cuffs on, he might have even tried arguing the decision with Dean, but the wrath she felt was too strong to relent to rationality.

“Morgan, please,” Sam said softly, “He loves you, he just doesn’t know what-”

“GET OUT, SAM!” she whipped her pillow across the room, landing pathetically just in front of his feet.

He sighed, tossing her pillow on the foot of her bed, “I love you, sweetie.”

She said nothing. She wouldn’t tell Sam she hated him, she didn’t, but couldn’t express anything close to love at that moment.

Her door closed with a quiet click and Morgan screamed into her mattress, beating her fists so hard the cuffs cut into her pale skin. Removing them was a futile hope without the key, or magic. She felt useless and vulnerable, worsened by the knowledge her brother had caused it. She’d never expected Dean to create such pain in her chest, wishing he would have just listened to her, trusted she could help. But Dean’s trust only extended to himself, and sometimes Sam, without any faith in the others who have helped him along the way. Even Crowley, she knew, deserved more credit than her brothers gave him.

Crowley.

Morgan scrambled off her bed, digging in her jacket pocket for her cell phone, grateful Dean hadn’t thought to snag it in his rage. Unlocking the screen, she accessed her favorites and jammed her finger on the fourth contact, turning the volume down as she pressed the phone to her ear.

“Hello, darling,” the demon’s raspy voice answered on the third ring.

“Crowley, help,” Morgan whispered earnestly.

“Morgan, what’s wrong?” his immediate concern was obvious, and a bit uncharacteristic.

Hardly calming her panted breaths, Morgan hushed an explanation of the recent events, starting with the wolves and ending with Dean binding her magic.

“He didn’t,” Crowley seethed.

“Crowley,” she whimpered, “I need to be there, please, I need your help.”

“Where are you?” he asked.

“My room,” she said, adding, “The one across from Dean’s.”

The demon’s sudden appearance would’ve been concerning for anyone else, but Morgan was filled with relief, rushing Crowley and wrapping her arms thankfully around him. He was obviously surprised, but patted her back gently and tipped her chin up.

But a knock on her door interrupted their greeting and Morgan’s stomach lurched as Garth called from the hallway.

“Morgan? Everything okay? I thought I heard something.”

_**To be continued soon...** _

**Author's Note:**

> LOVE YOUR FEEDBACK AND CAN'T WAIT TO HEAR IT!
> 
> KUDOS MAKE ME SMILE =)


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